


Some Place They Won't Follow

by LadyShadowWalker



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Childbirth, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, season 3 trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 49,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowWalker/pseuds/LadyShadowWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as a one-shot based off the Season Three trailer but turned into a Season Three rewrite more worthy of their characters. X doesn’t die, Y is pregnant, and they escape out west.</p><p>Chapters with * denote NSFW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're Dead to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did Bellamy do to cause Octavia to disown him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I need to be able to sleep sometime between now and next year, here’s my first post-canon fanfic based off the anxiety-inducing Season 3 trailer. From Octavia’s perspective.

 

* * *

She had been away at Mount Weather and had returned to ~~Camp Jaha~~ Arkadia on horseback three days ago only to be fired upon when she approached the gate. She took one of the patrol guards, Denby, captive and demanded he tell her what happened. Chancellor Pike’s latest decree was that no Grounders or Grounder-sympathizers were allowed through the gates and were to be shot on sight.

Bellamy had rescued Pike and a small handful of other Ark survivors. Their numbers had been decimated by Grounders, starting the spark of hatred that would end in the deaths of every _Trikru_ she had ever known. It was Bellamy’s doing that Pike had become Chancellor. Bellamy had used his newfound influence to get others to listen to him during the elections, swaying their votes. It was Bellamy’s fault the _Skaikru_ had become fearful and hateful toward the Grounders. He hadn’t been able to let go of his animosity and it festered. He had made sure everyone knew about the bombing of _Tondisi_ , even trying to get Octavia to side with him at one point. Instead of alleviating fears, he had told everyone about Lexa’s betrayal at the Mountain and even went so far as to suggest she had practically forced them to commit genocide. Bellamy had known what was about to happen at Arkadia and had done nothing to stop it. Instead, he had sent Octavia on an unexpected trip to Mount Weather without Lincoln.

When she had asked Denby about Lincoln, he had told her in very derogatory terms that she would find his body in _Tondisi_ with the rest of his kind. She thanked him for the information and then she slit his throat. She had felt marginally guilty about killing him until she arrived in _Tondisi_. Even now she wished she had killed him slower.

The _Tondisi_ villagers had slowly began to rebuild after Finn’s massacre and the bombing, with most people still living in tents. The _Skaikru_ raiders had torn them down and trampled them leaving an unobstructed view of the horrific devastation laid out before her in the center of the village. The _Skaikru_ had dragged Lincoln there and tied him to a post, forcing him to watch as they slaughtered his entire village in front of him. Indra, Nyko, Fio, Tomac, infants, children; everyone was dead. Butchered. Lincoln shouldn’t have even survived but once the _Skaikru_ were done murdering his friends and family, no one had bothered to check to see if he was still alive. Or maybe they had left him alive on purpose to torture him further.

She didn’t know where else to go so she had brought him back to their cave and had spent the last day taking care of his wounds and trying to keep his fever down by bathing him. She rested the back of her hand to his forehead, satisfied that he seemed cooler now and returned the cloth to the bucket.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered to him, her hand moving down from his forehead to cup his cheek. “ _Ai hod yu in._ ” She kissed him tenderly before checking his bandages to make sure none of his wounds had started bleeding again. She wasn’t sure how much blood someone could lose and remain alive but Lincoln was certainly at his limit.

She hastily rubbed away the tears that threatened to fall. _A warrior does not mourn those she’s lost till after the battle is won,_ Indra’s voice sounded in her head but it only made her want to cry harder. Indra was gone forever. This time, she didn’t stop the tears, letting them fall unchecked as she tended to the fire and made sure it had enough fuel for the next couple of hours.

She only allowed herself to cry until she was done with her task and then she cleaned her face before returning to Lincoln’s side. He was still relatively cool to the touch. She pressed her lips against his, her eyes tightly closed as she willed him to stay alive. He still hadn’t woken up and that concerned her more than any of his wounds or his fever. She tugged the furs up higher around him before crawling into bed next to him. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours since she’d left Mount Weather and his warmth beckoned her closer, reminding her she hadn’t lost everyone.

* * *

The noise of the grate being pushed back over the entrance to the cave brought her abruptly awake. She reached for her sword as she climbed to her feet and began creeping toward the entrance. She rounded the corner, spotting the intruder and immediately dropped her sword so she wouldn’t be tempted to kill him.

“Bellamy?!” She stopped him from entering further, not wanting him to see Lincoln was alive; she was terrified he would finish the job his _Skaikru_ compatriots had started. “Get the hell out!”

“O….”

“Get out!” She screamed. “You knew what they were going to do and now everyone is dead because of you!” She had never felt such rage and hate in her life and it was consuming her, making her want to puke. “You killed them all!” This was her brother, her own flesh and blood who had practically raised her and it made his betrayal hurt all the worse. It made her fury all the worse. How could the brother she had known and trusted all her life turn into this soulless monster before her? “How does it feel to have wiped out _two_ entire races now?” She reached out blindly and snatched something off of Lincoln’s shelf and threw it at him. That felt good. That felt _really_ good. “You should have been floated instead of Mom!”

“Octavia, I’m sor–.”

“NO!” She screamed, throwing another object at him as he took a step closer. He didn’t get to apologize for this. An apology wasn’t going to bring Indra or Nyko or anyone else back. An apology wasn’t going to heal Lincoln. What he had done was unforgivable. She had stood in the middle of two of his massacres and she couldn’t defend him any more. “Get the hell out!”

He took another step closer, his hands reaching out to grab her and hold her still. She was not going to be held prisoner by him; she was never going to be held prisoner again. She swung, her knuckles connecting with his chin, knocking him back and startling him. And then she couldn’t stop. Her fists pummeled into his face over and over until he was on his knees, bloody and beaten. He wasn’t even bothering to fight back, almost as if he accepted this as his penance. No, this wasn’t enough of a penance. He deserved to die. No, that wasn’t enough, either. He deserved worse than death.

“You’re dead to me,” she said through gritted teeth, her fists pulled back and ready to punch him again as he shrank away from her, an almost guilt-stricken look upon his face. “The next time I see you, I’ll kill you.

She turned her back on him, her hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging crescent grooves into her palms as her shoulders heaved in righteous anger, waiting....

Gravel shifted and crunched as Bellamy stood up. She tensed, ready to spin around and start punching again if he came toward her. His footsteps moved away and then he was climbing out of the cave and sliding the grate back into place behind him. She loosened her hands and relaxed her shoulders, exhaling out and choking on a sob.

She hurried back over to Lincoln’s side, checking his temperature once more. Now that Bellamy knew she was here, they were no longer safe and needed to leave. His skin was still cool to the touch. Maybe his fever had finally broken.

“Oh, Lincoln. My _houmon_.” She closed her eyes as she kissed his forehead.

She was going to have to move him again and that might reopen some of his wounds. She carefully redressed his wounds once more, hoping the bandages would hold up long enough for her to get them out of here. She had no idea where to go next.

He groaned as she peeled back the cloth covering a deep gash across his bicep. He had been so still and quiet since she had found him that the noise startled her.

“Lincoln?” she whispered hopefully.

He groaned again.

“I’m here.” She cradled his cheeks in her hands, searching his face for signs of consciousness. “Please wake up.” She laid her forehead against his, never taking her eyes off his face. “Please, Lincoln. I need you.”

His eyelids fluttered before they slowly opened. “Octavia?” Then he passed out again.

But it was enough. Lincoln was still here and she wasn’t letting him go without a fight. He was all she had left now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me! I love Bellamy and all but I love Lincoln more.


	2. Life Has No Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation that has turned into its own AU based off a pregnancy prompt. It’s not even remotely close to what was asked for but this is what you’re getting.

 

* * *

Octavia had named her horse Helios after the Greek Titan of the sun, much to her brother's delight. Her brother who was now lost to her, as good as dead. Lincoln was her family now and he wasn’t dead. She used Helios to move Lincoln to another cave, one she and Lincoln had purposefully left off the area maps they had helped produce in recent months.

Days passed by unmarked as she tended him through his injuries and his grief, her heart broken for him and wanting to take his pain away. When Lincoln was conscious, he cried inconsolably, begging her to release him from this world. He had given up; she was no longer reason enough for him to survive. She did not blame him. Every time she thought of Indra or Bellamy or any of the others, she wanted to die right alongside him. But she couldn’t and if she couldn’t, then he couldn’t.

“Please let me go.” He sobbed, his face buried in her chest as she rocked him. “I don’t want to be alive.”

“You can’t leave me.” She was being selfish and she didn’t care. When she had ridden to _Tondisi_ , she had been prepared to find his body. She wanted to follow him in death but she couldn’t, not any more. “I need you, Lincoln.”

“I don’t want to exist here anymore.”

“You have to, Lincoln.” She lifted his tear-soaked face to hers, willing to do anything to keep him alive. “I’m pregnant.” She had not wanted to tell him in this manner but she was desperate. “I can’t do this without you.” She was powerless to hold back her own tears any longer, uncertain and scared of how he might react.

On her last trip to Mount Weather, she had visited Abby, complaining of a general malaise. That was when she found out exactly how little the Ark had thought of her existence. They didn’t want to waste the resources on a girl who they were planning on floating so she had never received the contraceptive implant. She had been terrified at first, unprepared and stunned at the thought that she would soon be a mother.

Abby told her she had a choice but Aurora’s influence on her was too strong. Octavia left Mount Weather as quickly as she was able, pushing Helios hard on the return journey to Arkadia, eager to hurry back to Lincoln and tell him the news. Children had always been such a distant concept and now she and Lincoln had created one. They had not really discussed kids but she knew if she was happy, then he would be happy. At least he would have been before…. Now, he remained silent and still.

“Please say something.” It was her turn to beg.

He shook his head, his arms snaking around her waist as he laid his cheek to her belly. His shoulders trembled as he inhaled a shaky breath. “I’ll try.”

That was enough for now.

* * *

It was another week before his injuries had healed enough to travel. He would have healed faster if Nyko had cared for him. They simply headed West. Lincoln was still too weak to walk far on his own so they rode double on Helios. He was a conspicuous beast and drew unnecessary attention to them but the faster they left the lands of the ~~Twelve~~ Thirteen Clans, the less risk of them being caught.

They slept in bunkers, caves, and hollowed out buildings during the day and traveled mostly at night, avoiding populated areas and hiding from local scouts. Once they reached the border, they had sold Helios in a small village. He was the last trace back to her and his distinctive markings made him easy to identify as hers, if her brother was even looking for her.

After they crossed the border, they relaxed their pace, in no rush to go anywhere but further away from all the horror they had left behind. They began traveling by day again, mainly sticking to the forests and avoiding the thoroughfares and camping beneath the stars at night instead of in villages or towns.

When she had first stepped foot on the ground, she had wanted to see as much of this new home of hers as possible. She wanted to explore and be free and wonder at all the new sights and experiences. Lincoln was giving her that dream and her world continued growing bigger every day.

She looked across the campfire to him. There was a vacancy in his eyes that made Octavia weep silently to herself at night. He had been struggling with the emotional toll of his time as a Reaper when his entire world was slaughtered in front of him. That double impact had left him shattered and empty. He rarely talked much to begin with but now she was excited if he said more than two sentences to her each day. He had become a ghost, a shell of his former self, having seen too much and lost too much with only their baby holding him here.

“Can you draw me a picture of those flowers we saw this morning?” she asked, trying to rouse him from his somber thoughts.

He nodded and she brought him his journal, sitting down next to him and resting her head on his shoulder as she watched him draw. She was starving for more than this barest of physical contact with him but she was patient. Indra had taught her patience. He was hurting still, deeply wounded and needing more time to heal. She would give him time; she would give him anything he asked for because he had given her so much to live for already and she was forever in his debt.

She burrowed in closer to him and he lifted his arm up and placed it around her, tucking her in against his chest as his hand absentmindedly moved down, splaying over her growing belly. He never mentioned the baby, as if he were scared he might curse it, but she knew he cared. He always remembered to forage for some of the wild _gon ja_ leaves to make into a tea for her morning sickness and after a long day of walking, he massaged her swollen feet without her even having to ask.

“ _Ai hod yu in_ ,” she whispered to him. She said it to him every day in as many ways and as many languages as she knew. There was no one else on this planet but her to say those words to him now and she was going to make sure he heard them often to remind him he wasn’t alone. And to remind herself she wasn’t alone.

* * *

Once they made it far enough to where no one had ever heard of people coming from the sky, they started interacting a bit more with the local populations. Lincoln had an extensive breadth of knowledge about practically everything and was able to build tools and weapons while Octavia used her own talent as a seamstress to turn their furs and pelts into winter clothing and blankets. They were entirely self-sufficient, using their skills to trade for the occasional room and board and she had never been more proud of her _houmon_ than when he was capably haggling prices with the locals.

They had stayed in this town for the last few days, enjoying the friendly atmosphere and the communal spirit. It was idyllic but the itching under her skin told her it wasn’t quite perfect for them. They would be moving on soon; they never stayed anywhere for too long.

She returned from the women’s bathhouse and stepped up onto the porch of the little cabin they were staying in, seeing Lincoln lazing about in a hammock. “You look comfortable.” She smiled.

He extended his hand to her, inviting her to join him. She climbed in next to him and he wrapped his arm around her, his hand sliding down to rest protectively over her belly. The more she started to show, the more his hands found their way to the slight bulge. She wasn’t certain he realized yet that he was doing it. Her hand moved down next to his, a soft smile on her face for the new life growing inside her. It was still weird to think she was going to be a mom but she was finally getting used to being pregnant.

“Do you think we’ll have a girl or a boy?” she asked. She wasn’t expecting a response. Lincoln never talked about the baby but it didn’t stop her from talking. “I’d like to have a boy, I think.” She smiled again as she imagined a miniature version of Lincoln.

“Mmm.” He hummed his agreement as his hand caressed over her belly, his fingertips briefly bumping into her hers. “A daughter might be nice.”

She tried not to react to his words, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. Her fingers crept across her stomach to lace together with his and she squeezed. He squeezed gently back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be at least one more chapter after this.


	3. Worse Wounds Than This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln and Octavia struggle with intimacy issues as they approach the Mississippi. PTSD, depression warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not even sure what this flangsty mess is turning into yet. All I know is that I already have two more chapters half-written.

 

* * *

Another week, another territory, another village. Once again, Octavia was treated as a minor celebrity with strangers coming up to rub her belly for good luck. Low birth rates were a common problem in many areas of the radiation-soaked planet and Lincoln once admitted to her that it made him apprehensive someone might try to take her away from him. They always moved on from those areas.

It was too cold that night to sleep outside so they had rented a one-room hut for the night, complete with electricity and a bed big enough to fit Lincoln’s tall frame. They had already decided to not stay for long and were planning on leaving early the next morning to reach the great Mississippi river that split the continent in two. 

“Goodnight, Octavia.” Lincoln leaned down to chastely kiss her as he did every evening.

He started to pull away but his lips returned to hers for another deeper kiss. His mouth opened against her lips and she parted them, the long-ignored desire she kept locked away breaking free as her tongue tangled hungrily with his. She moaned, heat pooling between her legs, her response immediate and passionate after all these long weeks of lusting after him.

He yanked his mouth away and he stumbled back from her. “I’m sorry,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”

No, not this. She wasn’t strong enough for this. She turned away, hiding from him the tears clouding her vision. “Goodnight, Lincoln,” she said steadily, her voice belying her despair.

She crawled into the bed, lying on her side, her back to him as the tears silently began to fall. The last time they were intimate had been two months ago, right before she left for Mount Weather. Octavia yearned for him, ached to be joined together with him but he needed a friend right now, not a lover. It still hurt, especially when she was starting to feel self-conscious about her pregnant body.

She heard him moving around on the other side of the bed before the light went out. The covers lifted and the bed creaked and shifted as he climbed in. He scooted in close behind her, his warmth reaching out to her and tempting her.

“Octavia.” His hand hovered somewhere above her shoulder, not touching her without her permission. “I…I can’t. Not yet. I’m sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing.” It hurt too much. She did not want him feeling guilty because he wasn’t able to make love to her; that would just make this situation worse. She sniffled. Her crying wasn’t helping either. “I love you, Lincoln, and not just because we have mind-blowing sex.”

His hand finally settled on her shoulder, light enough that with the barest shrug from her, he would remove it. “Can I still hold you?”

She wanted to refuse him but that was just from spite. “Yes.”

His arms curled around her as he tugged her back against his chest, one of his hands resting on the curve of her stomach. There was a tiny and newly familiar fluttering in her belly at his touch, their baby moving inside her.

“I’m trying,” he whispered into her hair.

“I know.” He was still alive and that meant more to her right now than any of his missing kisses. She rolled over to face him, her hand sliding up to gently cup his face. “I didn’t have sex for the first seventeen years of my life. I’m capable of waiting until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?” He fearfully admitted to her.

Her breath caught at his words and she felt as if she had just been punched. He was wrong; her lover would be returning to her someday. She had woken up enough times this past week to his morning arousal to know his physical desire was coming back. The accidental kiss tonight was more proof.

He was being vulnerable and she wasn’t about to dismiss his feelings. “You’re my best friend.” And now only friend. “You’re my _houmon_.” She tilted her head up to tenderly kiss his lips, wanting more but accepting it was enough for now. “You’re the father of our baby.” She tucked her head under his chin and snuggled closer. “All of that means you’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives.”

“ _Ai hod yu in_ , Octavia.”

* * *

The river was at least a mile wide, impossible to traverse without a bridge or a raft. There was a settlement with a bridge several miles south so they walked along the riverbank in that direction most of the morning, stopping when the noonday sun broke free from the cloudy skies and illuminated an ideal picnic location.

Lincoln left her seated on a boulder while he went hunting for their lunch. After last night, he had withdrawn internally again, another infuriating setback. Octavia gave him his space, doing it more for herself than for him. She was still too upset to be the compassionate spouse he needed so she kept her distance, waiting for her residual anger to dissipate.

She did not like it when it was strained between them because it left her alone too much inside her head with her memories. She preferred worrying over Lincoln’s emotional state than concerning herself with whether or not anyone was still alive back at Arkadia or _Polis_.

She tried not to think about those they had left behind. She did not want to worry over Jasper or Monty or Raven and she especially avoided thinking about Bellamy. Tears flooded her eyes. She still partially blamed him for what happened in _Tondisi_ but the time and distance had softened her heart and she wanted to believe he truly had not known what Pike was about to do. She wanted to be able to forgive her brother but in order to do that she needed to talk to Lincoln to find out what really happened after she left for Mount Weather. Neither of them was ready yet for that conversation.

The farther she and Lincoln were removed from the death and destruction, the more irrational it all seemed. In all the time they had been traveling, they encountered more hospitality than hostility from the locals. It was a stark difference from the vengeful and prideful wars that had obliterated entire races of people all because no one was willing to share the plentiful resources this vast planet offered. They were eventually going to kill each other off until no one was left, fighting and dying because of a sense of entitlement over land that was billions of years old.

Their journey wasn’t entirely peaceful and her sword still saw blood on occasion but there was no longer the daily battle for basic survival. There had been a few places they weren’t welcomed and they had come under attack from raiders and thieves but the incidences were few and far between and the enemies had not been nearly as skilled as the warriors she and Lincoln had fought in the past.

Lincoln arrived in the clearing with a couple of dead squirrels and her stomach rumbled in anticipation. After spending most of her life half-starved, she wasn’t very good at knowing how much she was supposed to eat so she appreciated that he took care of mealtimes for them and made sure she ate enough. Even with all the walking and exercise, she had put on more than just pregnancy weight and it relieved some of her anxiety.

Abby had warned her that there might be complications because she was so tiny and malnourished. She never told that information to Lincoln, not wanting to jeopardize his tenuous attachment to life in case he shut down in fear of her losing the baby. She nudged at her belly bump, trying to wake up the baby so she could feel the flurry of movements within that let her know her baby was alive.

Lincoln watched her curiously. “Can you feel it?”

“Sometimes.” She smiled at him, delighted he was taking interest again. “Do you want to try?” She held out her hand to him, inviting him over.

There was a longing in his eyes but then he shook his head. “I need to take care of these squirrels.” He took out his knife and set to work on skinning and gutting them.

She tried not to let her disappointment show. He was being moody which in turn was making her moody. She climbed off the boulder and stretched her back, stiff from sitting still for too long. His eyes were once again drawn to her protruding belly, a shame-filled look on his face. He was still punishing himself.

She crouched down next to him and set to work on the other squirrel. When it came to the smell of blood, it was always a toss-up whether she would be able to finish the task or if her stomach would rebel first. She breathed out steadily through her mouth as she started to sweat and her saliva glands sprang to life in early warning.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing her struggle.

She was about to nod when her stomach flipped. She gagged and Lincoln snatched the squirrel from her hand as she staggered to her feet and reeled away from the smell, collapsing against a tree trunk and dry heaving as she tried to keep the contents of her stomach from coming up. Her hands were still covered in blood, the metallic aroma flooding her nostrils and leaving her mouth gaping as she tried to regain control. Nope. She retched. There was little left from the morning meal but she immediately felt better.

“Here.” Lincoln, bless him, came over to her side and wiped her sweaty face down with a wet rag. “Go wash your hands in the river and I’ll finish up.”

“Thanks, my love.” She smiled at him cheerfully. “I don’t know what I'd do without you.”

He frowned. “You would survive.”

She rolled her eyes as she walked away from him and down to the water’s edge. She bent over, rinsing the blood from her hands in the cold river. “I love you, Lincoln!” she called out even though what she really wanted to say was that he was being an insufferable grump. She was going to keep smothering him in her love until he stopped blaming himself for what happened in _Tondisi_ and allowed her back in.

He finished with the squirrels and walked over to her side, kneeling down next to her to wash his own hands. He playfully bumped her with his shoulder. “I love you, too, Angel.”

She smiled lovingly at him, the long-forgotten endearment fortifying her weary heart and melting away the last of her frustrations.


	4. Get to the River*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia deals with pregnancy symptoms. I’m putting her around 5-6 months (I haven’t solidified the timeline yet).  
> Minor smut (masturbation).

 

* * *

After lunch, they continued on down the riverbed, looking for a place to cross. They started seeing more traffic on the river, houseboats and barges and rafts and every mixture in between. They rounded a bend and a colossal bridge appeared a couple of miles down, spanning the width of the river. The closer they drew near the bridge, the more buildings and people they passed by.

She sought out Lincoln’s hand, trepidation filling her as they approached the first large-scale settlement they had encountered since leaving the Mount Weather area. They often talked with townspeople and other fellow travelers to discover what might lie ahead on their journey and they purposefully circumvented the heavily populated areas but now it was inescapable.

“Do you think they speak English?” she asked unnecessarily, wanting to break the nervous silence that had fallen.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” was Lincoln’s indifferent reply.

Octavia had a lot of free time on the Ark and used the various learning apps on Bellamy’s and their mom’s data tablets to teach herself multiple languages. She knew Greek, Latin, and Italian (at Bellamy’s insistence, of course) and she was fluent in Spanish, French, Tagalog, and Mandarin. She had conversational ability in several other languages as well, but so far none of those had come into use. Lincoln’s area of expertise, on the other hand, were the English derivatives that sounded almost like differing dialects of _Trigedasleng_ to her ears. Between the both of them, so far they were able to communicate with everyone they met.

There were no walls around the bustling open market at the foot of the bridge and they walked through unimpeded except for the occasional sidelong glance or wary look. Their baggage marked them as travelers and their weapons warned they were dangerous. She might have a warrior heart but she was sensible enough to keep her eyes averted, not wanting to invite any extra attention.

Lincoln did not pause, his hand gripping hers tighter the further into the marketplace they moved. He cut an imposing figure as he stared straight ahead, a threatening glint in his eyes as he dragged her past tables and carts filled with products to buy or trade. They always made a quick round first to get an idea for pricing before they sold their wares for the local currency.

She let him take charge, feeling claustrophobic around so many people. It was too hot, the air thick with river mugginess. Sweat dripped down her face and trickled down her spine. The undersides of her breasts were sticky and chafing and her feet were swelling up twice as fast in the humid climate.

He sold some pelts and a bow and a quiver of arrows to get them enough money to pay for the toll across the bridge. The language seemed to be a mixture of Pidgin English and French. She helped Lincoln out with the French words.

“Do you want to rest here first or get across the river?” he asked her.

“Let’s cross.”

The river had become a symbol for her, her point of no return. There was nothing for them to go back to except nightmares and death. Once they crossed over, half a continent would separate them and it might finally be far enough away for her to feel at peace.

* * *

Lincoln woke first every morning. Most of the time, he inadvertently woke Octavia up but she always pretended to remain asleep. He often used the time to update his journals, a habit he still maintained, and occasionally he shared them with her. There was one journal he kept hidden but she didn’t pry; he would share it if he wanted to and he needed something that was only his. After he finished sketching in his journals, he would leave for a while, exploring wherever they had spent the night and bringing home breakfast when he was ready to get on the road again. The morning belonged to Lincoln and he was welcome to it. She would rather sleep in.

She heard the door close behind him and she rolled into Lincoln’s vacated spot, breathing in his scent, missing him even when he was with her. Yesterday, when they had crossed the Mississippi, they stopped in the middle of the bridge, the wind whistling and whipping past them, tangy with moisture. A city sprawled wide on either side of the river, a thriving community built off the natural trade route. His hand was resting in the small of her back when his fingers began trailing up her spine.

She was embarrassed by how easily that simple caress had turned her on and brought back the feelings of rejection from the night before. Then he had kissed her. It wasn’t one of those passion-filled kisses from before, but it wasn’t one of those friendly, loving kisses either. It was a kiss promising that he was still trying.

Her fingers rose to her lips, the sweet taste of his awakening desire lingering. She closed her eyes with a groan, burying her face in his pillow and inhaling deeply. She knew the day was coming soon when she no longer had to go it alone but until that day came, she was capable of taking care of her own body’s needs. She wasn’t certain how much time she had before he returned with breakfast but it didn’t matter. She truly hoped one of these mornings he might walk in on her. It was his fault she was left to her own devices.

Her hand moved under her shirt to one of her breasts. They had always been small, mostly nipple and areola, but now with the pregnancy, there was a squishy heaviness that she was enjoying along with how sensitive her nipples had become. She pulled on one, releasing some of the constant pressure that begged for Lincoln’s mouth to suckle upon it.

Her other hand slid down and under the waistband of her panties. Her belly was starting to get in the way and she sometimes had difficulty finding the right angle, but not this morning. She was already wet, her nether lips throbbing. Her fingertips found her clit and she kneaded gently as her other hand continued to squeeze and tug at her nipple.

She moaned as her memories filled in the fantasy, her walls flexing and contracting as if trapped under his mouth. She pushed two fingers inside, her slick desire making her whimper as she imagined it was his tongue and his fingers stroking her, readying her for his penetration. She pumped her fingers as she massaged the top of her mound with the heel of her hand, the pressure building as she neared her climax, the memory of Lincoln’s cock thrusting her closer to ecstasy.

“Oh, Lincoln.” She sighed into the empty room as she came.

She was dressed and ready to go by the time he returned with breakfast.

* * *

Wherever they went, there were always too many people around and it made them both anxious so they inevitably moved on. In this town, they had the horrendous timing of arriving during a spring fertility festival. Octavia’s pregnant frame was once again assaulted by numerous hands superstitiously rubbing and patting her. This time, even Lincoln had been dragged into it and received several offers for assistance in getting some of the women pregnant. It had been funny the first couple of times but the more men and women who approached him, the more uncomfortable she saw it made him.

She grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let’s leave. We don’t need to stay here.”

He looked up into the night sky threatening to rain down on them. “There’s nowhere else to go tonight.”

As if in answer, a bright flash of lightning illuminated the dark and swirling thunderclouds above them. The people around them began to chant and cheer, calling upon the rain to bless their event.

Lincoln guided her through the crowd and down the street, making their way to a long structure one of the party-goers had given them directions to when they first arrived. It had become customary each evening to seek out temporary shelter from the capricious spring weather.

She stood behind him as she let him work out the details with the innkeeper, too tired and sore to do much else than close her eyes and rest her forehead against his back in exhaustion. Lincoln might have made it his personal mission to keep her well-fed her but she still had spurts of low energy and was starting to slow down, no longer able to cover as much distance or as quickly.

Her body was compensating for the new life it was busy creating and the changes were fascinating. It almost felt like she was going through puberty again. Her breasts were bigger and more sensitive, her emotions were all over the place, and she was constantly horny. Lincoln was still no help on that front.

He finished with the innkeeper and turned around, taking her hand again and leading her down a hallway lined with numbered doors. He stopped in front of number five and unlocked the door, poking his head tentatively inside to make sure there was no one already in there. They had stumbled into that surprise once before.

After he made sure it was clean and clear, he let her enter. She tossed off her bags and sword and flopped down on the bed as Lincoln began his nightly routine of securing the door and any windows in order to keep intruders from easily entering the room while they slept. That was a more common surprise, especially in bigger towns like this one.

The bed dipped by her legs as Lincoln sat on the edge of it. He lifted her feet into his lap and removed her shoes. His thumbs pressed into her arches, eliciting a groan from her. He worked the muscles first on one foot and then the next as Octavia whimpered and sighed her pleasure.

She sat up on her elbows as he finished. “I love you, Lincoln. You know that, right?” she asked jokingly.

He nodded, his expression unexpectedly serious. He was retreating again. The crowd tonight was too much for him. The cracking thunder probably wasn’t helping matters either. She needed to distract him.

She clasped his face between her hands and smacked a kiss on his lips. “Thank you, _Houmon_. You make my life better.” She moved to stand up, underestimating how relaxed she had become and found herself struggling.

Lincoln raised an eyebrow.

“You think this is amusing?” she asked incredulously. “Wanna help me up so I can get out of these clothes and get in bed?”

He effortlessly stood up (show-off) and assisted her to her feet. They undressed and quickly climbed under the covers, the room a little cold without its own heat source. Her own personal heat source enfolded himself around her, his hands once again finding her belly. The baby began its goodnight dance, tickling her from within.

“What…?” Lincoln’s voice startled her.

“You felt that?” She turned over onto her back so she could see his face.

“Yeah. Was that…?”

“Yeah.” She re-positioned his hand over her belly to where she had last felt movement. There it was again.

A smile of adoration crept upon his face, one so achingly familiar even though it had been missing these past couple of months; a smile he had once reserved only for her and now was sharing with their unborn child. Lincoln was on his way back to her.


	5. You Can Talk to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia’s pregnancy hormones get the best of her and she sees a midwife. Depression warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have no idea where this is going. Anyone want to steer me in a direction, any direction?

 

* * *

Octavia woke up crying and alone. She didn’t have a nightmare, she wasn’t thinking (much) about Bellamy, she was just really, really sad. Everything was so tragic and awful. She was a horrible person. She didn’t deserve to be anyone’s mother. She didn’t know how to be a mother. Her own mother had checked out of life long before she was floated, only sticking around because Bellamy had forced her to out of her responsibility for Octavia. Now, Octavia had done the same thing to Lincoln, manipulating him with his child. She was a horrible person.

She burrowed deeper into the pillows and blankets when she heard the door opening as Lincoln returned with breakfast. He set a tray down on a table and threw open the curtains on the window. She wrapped the pillow tighter around her head, her shoulders trembling, unable to stop the tears. She was a horrible person.

Lincoln was immediately by her side, his hand removing her death grip on the pillow. “Octavia, what’s wrong? What is it?” He ran his hands down her body, checking for injury, his questions tumbling out in panicky concern. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

She shook her head. “I’m o…okay.” She sobbed harder. If she lost the baby or if she died, it would destroy Lincoln. She was a horrible person, keeping him alive only to finish the job the rest of the Sky People had started.

Lincoln climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his lap, pressing her head against his chest. His heart was beating frantically beneath her ear. She must have really worried him.

“I’m . . . so . . . sorry,” she stammered through the tears as she clung to his shirt. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You can talk to me if you want.” He repeated the words she reassured him with every day as he finger-brushed through her tangled hair and braids. “I’m not that fragile.” He kissed the top of her head. “Not anymore.”

She believed him but she wasn’t able to admit to him how horrible of a person she was. She took a shuddery breath. “Can we just stay here another day and do nothing?” She didn’t want to leave their room and this place had the benefit of running water. She wanted to take another bath and drown in her sorrows. Figuratively. She might be depressed but she wasn’t suicidal any more.

“Whatever you want, Angel.” His hand moved down from cradling her head and settled on her back, rubbing soothingly. “Are you hungry?”

Normally he didn’t have to ask because she was _always_ hungry but she appreciated the change in subject anyway. She nodded.

He slid out from under her and retrieved the tray from the table. There was a selection of jams and jellies, a side of scrambled eggs, some sort of cooked meat, toast, and a steaming cup of _gon ja_ tea. Sometimes he had already eaten, other times he would join her. Today, he joined her, sitting across from her on the bed and shoveling up some of the eggs onto a piece of toast.

“It’s mostly small family communities around here.” He began telling her about what he had learned while he wandered around this morning. “This town is the biggest thing for miles and miles in either direction.”

“Why is that?” She slathered a red-colored jam onto a piece of toast and took a bite. It was sweet and delicious. She wondered if she might be able to bring some with her when they left.

“There’s more land than there are people who want it.” He shrugged. “Enough for everyone.”

She set her toast down, feeling the tears coming back up. She didn’t think a place like this existed where there was no fighting and everything seemed perfect. There was something wrong with this place; no place was perfect. She hiccupped on a sob.

Lincoln’s finger under her chin lifted her head up to his gaze. “I got you something.”

He was trying to distract her, using her own tricks against her. She gave him a watery smile in appreciation. It was working. He stood up and retrieved something, coming back to sit next to her on the bed, his hand behind his back, a shy grin on his face. He was self-consciously satisfied with whatever gift awaited her.

“Here.” He held out his hand, a squat, glass jar sitting in his palm.

She took it from his hand, holding it up toward the sunlight streaming through the window. “What is it?”

“Cream for your belly.” At her confused look, he tried again. “Lotion?”

He took the jar from her hands and scooped up some of the mixture onto his fingertips. He held them out to her, waiting for her to take it from his fingers to see for herself. Instead, she lifted her shirt above her stomach and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

To her amazement, he smiled and scooted closer, his hand stretching toward her. He began to massage the cream into her stomach, his fingers moving in lulling, circular motions.

“The woman who owns this place, her sister is the midwife for the area,” Lincoln explained about the origins of the cream as he moved closer to her, passing her the jar to hold and using both hands to rub the mixture into her skin.

He was always so good with his hands and the cream felt rejuvenating. She relaxed back against the headboard of the bed. Lincoln was an intuitive genius when it came to her discomforts. Her skin had felt extra tight and dry lately and she had started to notice stretch marks on both her hips and her stomach. She glanced down, seeing the faint red streaks visible beneath his fingertips. The tears came back and she was crying again.

“Don’t leave me.” She was fat and ugly and weak and worthless and a ball of irrational emotions. She was a horrible person.

He placed a kiss on her belly before rolling her shirt back down over her stomach. He moved over to sit next to her against the headboard and tugged her back into his arms. "I’m not going anywhere, Angel. I promise.”

* * *

All morning long, she alternated between bites of breakfast and crying jags. Lincoln’s face was a mixture of helplessness and compassion and she hated that she was the one doing this to him. She was a horrible person by prolonging the inevitable for him. After forcing him too many times to remain in this wasteland of humanity, she was going to die in childbirth, leaving him alone.

“Promise me that if anything happens to me, you’ll take care of the baby.” He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her she was being ridiculous. “Please.” She knew she was being ridiculous; she didn’t need him telling her. She needed to hear the words. “Just say it.”

“All right.” He nodded. “I promise.” He returned to sketching in his journal, giving her the space when she needed it and rushing to her side when she needed _him_.

If she and the baby both died, she knew Lincoln would follow. She was okay with that. He didn’t belong to this world; he belonged to her. She was a horrible person. Would he choose Nyko’s vial of poison or would her warrior husband commit suicide by battle and take on a force larger than he was able to handle?

She blubbered and sniffled, trying to hold back another round of tears, and Lincoln was back at her side, dropping his journal next to her on the bed.

“Octavia.” He cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “You’re wearing yourself out.” He lifted a cloth to her face to wipe at her tears. “Let me get the midwife, okay? Will that make you feel a little better?”

It was not a bad idea and maybe it might get her out of this funk. It might also put her in a worse one. Abby was the last medical professional Octavia had seen because she would rather not know her fate so soon. She found herself nodding anyway.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

He was out the door, leaving behind his journal on the bed next to her. She picked it up. It wasn’t his secret one but it was one he rarely shared with her, usually just a picture or two. She was a horrible person so she began looking through it.

He had started it when they were still living back at Arkadia and the first few drawings were from there. One was of her seated on top of Helios, having returned from a trip to Mount Weather. There was a picture of her and Jasper she had seen before and another one of her with Bellamy. She quickly flipped past that one and the next few that followed, not wanting to revisit that time or place.

There were soon sketches of her from their journey, one with her nose in a flower, another with her bathing in a pond. Each page was filled with images of her in various poses and environments, her body noticeably changing as time progressed. He drew her in the rain and next to a campfire, he drew her on the bridge over the Mississippi, the wind blowing through her hair. He drew her daily, briefly capturing eternal moments onto paper. The last one was half-finished. She was asleep and lying in bed with a smile on her face and her hand on her stomach.

* * *

The midwife was named Maria and she had proudly given birth to six children and was pregnant with her seventh. One of her daughters who looked no more than twelve accompanied her. She came into the room and took charge with a motherly authority that had Octavia obeying without question. She reminded Octavia of a softer-spoken Indra and it made her cry again.

In a polite way of getting rid of them, Maria directed her daughter to take Lincoln and make everyone some lunch. Once they were alone, Maria sat Octavia down in a chair and began working on the mess of braids and knots that had become her hair. Maria started chatting, talking about mundane things and ordinary daily life, a daily life Octavia had never experienced.

“Don’t worry. They won’t be back any time soon.” She caught Octavia glancing warily at the door, waiting for Lincoln to return. “That’s one of the reasons why I bring Rosie. She’ll distract him for a good hour or so.”

Octavia looked back down at her hands, wringing them together in distressed idleness.

“Do you want your husband here with you?”

She did. She wanted Lincoln with her in case anything was wrong but it was also why she couldn’t have him here. She shook her head, the damned tears returning. She had lost complete control over her emotions and Indra would be so disappointed in her.

“It’s normal what you’re feeling,” Maria said, as if reading her mind. “I’ve had six kids myself and some days you just want to wallow about in tears.”

“I’ve never known anyone else who was pregnant before. Everything I know is from what I read.” Scientific explanations and clinical diagrams and technical jargon.

“Sometimes, it helps to talk to someone who has already been there.” Maria smiled at her. “Now if you’re ready, let me take a look and see how you and the baby are doing.”

Octavia nodded, finding herself at ease with the woman and trusting another person besides Lincoln for the first time since _Tondisi_.

* * *

“Everything looks great and the baby is progressing along nicely,” Maria said, summing up the running commentary she had delivered throughout the examination.

“What about...?” Octavia licked her lips nervously, still unconvinced. “What about other...complications.” After hearing Abby speak it, the word terrified her. She had warned Octavia that she wasn’t built for giving birth.

Maria took her hand, patting the back of it in support. “Women have been giving birth for thousands of years.” Her hands moved to Octavia’s hips, measuring the distance. “You’re on the small side, but the baby is sitting low and your pelvic region is already expanding.”

“I’ll be okay?” Octavia stood up from the bed and began getting dressed.

“Life is full of the unexpected.” Maria shrugged. “Keep eating well and keep exercising and that will help reduce some of the risks. Now, can I let your man back in? He’s been pacing outside the door for the last five minutes and it’s very distracting.”

Octavia nodded and Maria opened the door to Rosie holding a tray full of sandwiches and tea. Lincoln stood behind her like the intimidating warrior he was but Maria didn’t flinch. Rosie brought the sandwiches inside and set them on the table as Lincoln looked back and forth between Octavia and Maria, waiting for one of them to say something.

“Is everything okay?” He finally asked when no one spoke fast enough for his level of concern.

“Everything’s fine.” Octavia beamed at him, feeling better for the first time since she woke up. He smiled back, reflexively taking her hand in his and sending tingles through her fingertips to her heart.

“We’ll be leaving now,” Maria interrupted them to say her goodbyes. “We’re joining my sister for lunch.”

“Thank you, Maria.” Octavia hugged the woman who in the space of an hour had alleviated some of her fears and worries.

Maria kissed her cheek. “Come see me if you need anything, even just to talk,” she whispered into her ear before she turned to guide Rosie out the door of their room.

“Wait!” Octavia stopped Maria from leaving. “Can Lincoln hear the heartbeat?”

Maria smiled and nodded, gesturing for Octavia to lie down on the bed and pulling the fetal stethoscope back out from her bag.

Octavia lifted up her shirt while Maria positioned the stethoscope, moving it along her stomach until she heard what she was looking for. She beckoned Lincoln to her side and passed him the earpiece. Lincoln listened closely, his eyes widening as he heard his baby’s heart beating for the first time, a look of wonderment and awe creeping across his face.

“That’s _ai fyucha_?” He asked excitedly. “The baby?” He translated for Maria, except he had said _my_ baby. Octavia’s hand found his and she squeezed it knowingly. Their baby; their future.


	6. Let's Face It Together*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln finally end their dry spell.  
> NSFW

 

* * *

Lincoln’s fingers stroked along her temple, waking her from her slumber. She had fallen asleep in the bathtub, worn out after her day of crying. He was kneeling next to the tub, one arm resting on the side as he gazed at her with such a kindhearted expression that Octavia felt those damn tears returning. But these were the good kind of tears.

“Hey, Angel,” he said tenderly, his hand moving down to caress her cheek. “Ready to get out?”

“Mmmhmm.” The water had gone cold and her fingers and toes were wrinkled.

He stood up and removed the towel from over his shoulder, spreading it out to give her privacy. She clung to the side of the tub as she gracelessly maneuvered to her feet, her coordination and balance having a hard time keeping up with the rapid changes taking place within her body.

She shivered as the air hit her wet skin and he briskly rubbed the thick cloth along her body, drying her off before he wrapped the towel around her tightly, trapping her arms by her sides. He swung her up out of the bathtub and into his arms, carrying her from the bathroom back into the bedroom and depositing her on the bed.

“Here.” He tossed her one of his shirts (none of hers fit at the moment) and her favorite pair of undershorts (she had sewn an adjustable waist into them). They were both newly clean since last night, Lincoln once again thinking of solutions before they were problems.

She wriggled out of the towel, not caring if Lincoln saw her naked. She wanted him to stare. Maria had reassured her that she and Lincoln could continue having sex right up until she went into labor. Octavia wasn’t ready to admit to the midwife that they weren’t having sex to begin with but she was planning on changing that tonight. This stalemate had gone on for long enough. She took her time putting on the shorts, waiting for him to turn around again from where he was sorting through the clean laundry.

“What if we stay here longer?” she asked, trying to get his attention. “Just till after the baby is born?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” He turned around, his eyes automatically going to her face before they darted down to notice she was topless. His eyes returned to her face. “Let’s give it a try for a few days first.” He turned back to the laundry.

She glanced away in disappointment but then she saw the belly cream. “Would you mind putting more of that stuff on me please?” She dropped his shirt on the bed and stepped over to the table, picking up the jar.

He walked much too casually to her side and took the jar from her, willing to play along with her not-so-subtle attempt at seduction.  She turned away from him and got back on the bed, moving to the middle of it to force him to sit next to her and wondering how far he was going to let her take this before he put a stop to it. She hoped tonight was the night he didn’t stop it.

He rubbed the cream between his hands; warming it up before he applied it to her stomach, his touch intentionally sensual. His eyes drifted occasionally to her breasts, her pebble-hard nipples tightening further at each glance. He was definitely playing along.

All too soon, he was finishing with her stomach, his fingers slowing down their rhythm. She covered one of his hands in hers and slid it up over her naked breast, watching his face. An internal war waged briefly behind his shuttered eyes. His thumb moved, rolling across her nipple and tearing an involuntary gasp from her lips as her body jerked in response.

She opened her mouth to give him encouragement but instead she said the most unromantic thing ever.  “We need to talk.”

Lincoln sighed and started to take his hand off her breast but her grip tightened and she put it back.

“No, I’m not going to force either of us to talk about _that_ yet.” He visibly relaxed. “You’re not doing this out of pity for me, right?” she asked.

He looked momentarily offended but then he grinned. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Fair enough. So we’re agreed. This is not pity sex.”

He nodded, his hand shifting beneath hers where she had it pinned to her breast. The callouses on his palm scraped against her nipple and she swallowed back a moan.

He looked away from her. “I’m scared to disappoint you again,” he said quietly. It had been over a week since that night and it was still haunting them.

“The first time we had sex, you told me that all I had to do was ask you to stop and you would.” She cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to hers. “Now it’s my turn to make you that same promise.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “We’re in this together.”

“ _Ai hod yu in_ ,” he whispered to her just before his mouth descended on hers. He was leisurely in his kiss, his lips delicate as his tongue lured hers out to play.  Her eyes fell closed, savoring the moment and reveling in the velvety softness of his mouth. Oh, how she had missed the taste of Lincoln.

He squeezed her breast lightly, her nipple poking hard into his palm. He pinched it gently between his fingers, eliciting a groan from her. He smiled against her mouth and tugged on it again.

“Lincoln.” She sighed, yanking on his shirt, wanting to feel his skin on hers. She had missed him so much.

He rolled away from her, quickly removing his clothes as she got rid of her shorts. He was soon back at her side, leaning over her and smiling at her. She ran her fingertips across his lips and along his cheekbone and he turned his head, placing a kiss into her palm before bending down to take her lips again. This time, he wasn’t hesitant, his tongue plunging into her mouth to mate with hers. He ran his hand along the curve of her belly, down into the cradle of her thighs. His fingers burrowed deep, pressing into her clit and….

“Uuh!” She gasped, wrenching her mouth away from his as liquid desire poured straight from his fingertips to her mound. It had been months but his fingers still remembered how to dance across her nub.

He kissed down her neck and along her collarbone, nibbling and licking and tickling. She was floundering, unable to do much more than writhe and moan beneath him, her long-unanswered need for him consuming her and leaving her a quivering mess of wantonness.

He trailed kisses over the top of her breast, his stubbly chin rasping her nipple and she whined, grasping his head and arching her back. His mouth found her breast and the tip of his tongue flickered out, sending flames of euphoria from her nipple down to her nub where his fingertips were tapping her steadily closer to that monumental and joyous silence.

He pinched her clit as his mouth latched over her nipple and suckled. It was too much at once and she cried out, tremors coursing through her body as she soared, her climax building. His fingers slowed their frantic pace.

“No, don’t stop. Not yet.”

He ran his fingers along her creases and teased at her entrance before returning them to her nub and beginning the dance anew. The next orgasm left her clinging to the bed sheets, her body bowing up off the bed as she mutely screamed.

He removed his mouth from her breast, watching her as she came back down, his thumb brushing softly over her clit. “You okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

He eased a finger inside her, still watching her closely.

“Aah!” Her muscles clasped around his finger as her hips lifted off the bed.

He eased another finger inside and began gliding them in and out as his thumb returned to her clit. He shifted to kneel between her legs as she opened herself wider for him, the movement pulling his fingers deeper into her and making her sob with unexpected elation. He bent his head down, planting his mouth at the top of her folds as his fingers continued plying her. There, against her front wall, he found the spot that had her thighs clinging to his head as her body trembled and moaned. He jammed his tongue into her creases, searching out her nub, his teeth grazing it just enough that she whimpered, her sheath aching and throbbing under his onslaught. He sucked on her clit and she came undone, panting and heaving, too breathless to cry her joy out loud.

He kept his fingers inside her as he rose between her legs, lying half on top of her, his crooked elbow supporting his head next to hers. “You’re beautiful.”

Her answering smile was lost in a gasp as his thumb moved back into position over her clit.

“You taste a little different,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.

She wrinkled her nose. “In a bad or a good way?”

“Stronger.” He smiled. “I like it.”

He dipped his head to kiss her so she could taste herself. He was right; she was different, almost the same but muskier, more potent, sweeter. She moaned as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth, his fingers following suit, driving faster and faster between her legs, slamming in and out of her again and again. His lips relentlessly ravished her as she rocked against his hand, already so close to another orgasm. She loved this part of being pregnant.

He tore his mouth away, watching her face. “Come one more time for me, Angel.”

He increased the pace of his fingers and all she was able to do was nod in agreement, her nails digging into his arms where she clutched at him helplessly. Her walls flexed around his fingers and she started whimpering again, crumpling under the unyielding pleasure.

“Ahh!” She cried out as he curled his fingers inside, scratching against that special spot and sending her back into the depths of ecstasy.

He removed his fingers, making sure she watched as he licked her fluids from them. She whined, reaching for him.

“I need to feel you inside me,” she pleaded. The thought was enough set her nether lips crying again, the liquid heat trickling down her buttocks to the bed sheet below. “Now.”

He adjusted himself on top of her, his hands on either side of her, supporting his upper body. He gazed lovingly at her, smiling at her like he used to as his hips settled between hers and it felt like he had come home at last.

“You okay?” It was her turn to ask him.

He nodded as he moved his hand between them, his fingers stroking her lips and fondling her clit one last time before he guided the tip of his cock to her entrance. Her body yearned to rise up to meet him, to swallow him whole, but she waited. It was his turn now.

He bent down to kiss her as he shifted his hips forward. It was almost like the first time as he entered her excruciatingly slowly, easing into her, stretching her, allowing her to get used to him again. It had been so long since he filled her, so long since he was a part of her, and she cherished it, moaning into his lips as she fought a losing battle to remain still. She was trying not to cry but it felt so damn good to feel him inside her again, for them be joined together so intimately, his body united with hers, their souls touching for this brief moment. She kissed him harder as the tears started to flow.

He withdrew halfway out of her before pushing deeper in. His movements were slow and deliberate, setting a tempo for her to follow as her hips rose up, her walls convulsing and weeping around him. She mumbled incoherent affirmations of love into his ear as he pounded into her harder and farther and faster as she met him thrust for thrust.

His hips rammed against hers, smashing into her clit as his cock burrowed ever deeper. He grunted, shifting his weight on his arms as his muscles tightened, his brow furrowing in concentration as he rocked above her. He was close. She contracted her muscles around him, squeezing him and sucking at his rod, gripping him tighter. He groaned, his hand moving desperately to her clit to try to finish her off before him. She shoved her hips up, her legs wrapping around his waist as she hauled him close to her.

“Come for me, Lincoln,” she whispered in his ear. She clenched her walls around him.

“Uhh!” He grunted and shuddered as he emptied his seed into her, his precious face contorted in agonizing rapture and sending her cascading over the edge, exploding into stardust, crying his name out over and over again as she came.

Afterward, it was his turn to cry. She held him close, her hand cradling his head to her bosom as his cathartic tears dripped hotly on her belly. He had finally started to forgive himself.


	7. There at Dawn*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln wake up early.  
> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t decided yet if Lincoln and Octavia know the name of it (or if it’ll still be named that in the future) but I have them staying some place in the Ozarks. There were a couple of other factors as well but the irony in the name (OzARKs) was too perfect to not take advantage of that location.

 

* * *

When Octavia woke up, the sadness from yesterday was gone. It was the first night neither of them had any nightmares, perhaps ever. It was early morning, still dark out, and Lincoln was definitely having a pleasant dream, his arousal poking hard into her backside. Only days earlier, she would move discreetly away from him so as to not excite herself more than necessary but after last night….  She squirmed against him, waking him up.

He moved her hair away from the back of her neck and began to place tiny, delicate kisses there. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I have to pee.”

He snorted, the closest she’d heard to a laugh from him in a long time. He relinquished his hold on her and she scrambled out of the bed. She hurried naked to the bathroom, once again thankful that this particular _houm en dina_ had indoor plumbing. Yeah, she liked the hot water and the bath but with the amount of peeing she was doing lately, she loved the toilet the most.

She was growing concerned that Lincoln might have fallen back asleep or gotten up and started his day already. Stupid bladder. After last night, she wanted to spend more time making love with him. The air was cold against her bare skin and she shivered as she willed herself to pee faster, remembering Maria’s words about exercising those particular muscles in preparation for childbirth. She smirked, thinking of the workout they had gotten last night. She finished up quickly, washing extra carefully between her legs in hopes Lincoln’s mouth might soon return.

Lincoln was lying on his side, awake and waiting for her. He smiled and lifted up the covers, inviting her back into bed with him. She jumped under the covers and snuggled up into Lincoln’s chest, tucking her icy feet between his calves. He enveloped her in his arms, smothering her into his chest.

“You’re so warm.” It came out muffled against his chest.

“And you’re freezing.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “So warm me up, then.”

He grinned mischievously as his arms disappeared under the blankets.

“Oh!” One of his hands moved between her legs, digging through her creases in search of her clit. The other hand grasped her thigh and hitched it up over his hip, opening her further to his searching fingers. His mouth swooped down onto her neck, biting gently before licking and sucking at the spot. Lincoln, her passionate lover, was back.

His lips traced over the tattoo on her shoulder, following it into the hollow of her neck and he nipped lightly, startling a squeak out of her. At that noise, he rolled her over onto her back, kneeling between her legs. Her eyes went to his gloriously erect cock and she licked her lips hungrily. He grinned and shook his head at her before reaching under her legs to grab her hips, elevating them as he lowered his mouth down between her thighs.

“Uuh!” she cried out as his tongue pushed into her clit before swiping down her slit. Her knees hooked up around his ears and her hands clutched at the top of his head. He did it again, this time surging the tip of his tongue into her entrance. Her buttocks clenched, her hips jerking into his mouth. His lips opened against her folds, his tongue swirling inside her, consuming her. He had angled her hips high enough so she could see his mouth on her over the swell of her pregnant belly.

“Oh, Lincoln.” She sighed as he planted his mouth at the top of her folds, plunging two of his fingers inside her, curling and twisting and scraping and stretching. Tears were pouring from the corners of her eyes, trickling down into the pillow beneath her head as everything rose to a fevered pitch. His tongue wiggled and she came undone, dissolving into quivering limbs and wheezing gasps of ecstasy.

He rose up on top of her, bending down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips. She moaned into his mouth as her leg moved up over his hip, opening herself to him. She shoved him over and she straddled him, leaning forward and resting her hands on either side of his head as his fingers ran up and down her back.

She settled her wet center against his rod, writhing and sliding along his length, lubing him up with her natural fluids before she maneuvered her clit against the tip of his cock and grinded. He moaned, his hands clinging to her hips as he tried to adjust her entrance over him. She enclosed her hand around his shaft and stroked him harder until his stomach muscles rippled and precum dribbled out. She rose up over him and sank down on him, sighing as he filled her.

She loved this position the best because if she angled her legs just so…. “Ah!” His dick rubbed her from her clit to her g-spot with each thrust, burying himself ever deeper inside. She rode him deliberately, crushing her clit against his pelvic bone before rolling her hips back, rippling her walls around him. Forward and backward. Faster. Harder.

His hand was reaching for her clit, his sign that he was close. She sat up fully, and began rocking on top of him, his thrusts becoming shallow and more forceful.

“Octavia!” He panted in warning.

She squeezed and tugged on her nipples as his fingers found her nub.

“Aah!” She fell forward, coming hard on his cock, her nails digging into his chest, her legs trembling. His hands moved to her hips, his pelvis arching up to meet her and he slammed her back down onto him, driving himself to the hilt. His body grew taut beneath her as his liquid warmth filled her, mingling with her own juices and trickling out of her.

She was shaking; collapsing onto his chest, her breathing ragged as she listened to his heart beat pounding away beneath her ear. He was still hard enough to remain inside her and her muscles continued to spasm around him. His fingers had gone back to running up and down her back, relaxing and stimulating at the same time. He blew out a heavy sigh and rolled them over so she was on her back again.

“Wet spot,” he whispered, making her giggle, startling the both of them. How long had it been since she had laughed?

His eyes brightened and the corner of his lips turned up as if he were about to smile. She held her breath, waiting for the rare sight, until suddenly he was kissing her again, his hand cupping her cheek, his warm, soft lips nibbling at hers, his tongue filling her mouth.

“ _Ai hod yu in_ ,” he said as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

The baby woke up just then, kicking hard where Lincoln’s stomach pressed against hers. His eyes widened and he grinned. It was still new and exciting for him to feel the baby and his attention moved down, along with his head as he began speaking in _Trigedasleng_ , too low for her to hear.

His lips whispered across her belly and she ran a finger down his mohawk. He had recently started reciting some of the histories of the _Trigedakru_ to their baby, passing along the stories of how the old world ended and the new world began. It was the start of him talking through his grief and guilt and immortalizing all of his people who had so tragically died.

“What are you telling _oso fyucha_?” she asked inquisitively.

“Just how much I love her _nomon_.”

Octavia wanted to fixate on his certainty that they were having a daughter but instead, all she could hear was him calling her a _nomon_. She was somebody’s mom. She had always thought she’d be dead by eighteen and now here she was still alive _on Earth_ no less, married to the most incredible man she had ever met, and nearly six months pregnant. It was more than she ever dreamed was possible.

“Can we pretend for today that we have nothing to be sad about?”

He nodded as he continued whispering sweet nothings to their ~~daughter~~ baby.

“Pretend” was a game she and Bellamy had often played, one he had made up to distract her from her lonely, colorless prison. He would take her on journeys of imagination across the vast planet below the Ark, guiding her through mythological jungles and deserts and forests. The forests had always been her favorite.

She tried not to pity the girl she once was and what she unknowingly suffered through. It had not been that terrible of an existence because she did not have anything to compare it to until she landed on Earth. It was like when she had her first taste of chocolate and how she had felt a nostalgic sadness for having missed out on all the years she had never known what it tasted like. Her stomach growled.

“Do you want to go downstairs to eat breakfast or do you want me to bring it up?” Lincoln asked.

She remained silent as she contemplated the seemingly basic question, wondering at how many other people this breakfast downstairs might involve. These last two months spent with only Lincoln as her companion made it so she was no longer used to lots of people. Not that she had ever gotten used to all that many people to begin with. They had stayed in similar places like this one before, way stations for weary travelers that provided shelter and sometimes food at a price, but she wasn’t certain how big this place was or how full it was with only vague recollections of when they checked in two nights ago.

“No one else is staying in this _houm en dina_ but us,” Lincoln said reassuringly when she didn’t answer, at times knowing her better than she knew herself. “It’ll just be the owner and her _houmon_.”

The relative isolation of this town was one of the reasons they had chosen it from a postal map on display in the last town they passed through. It was a two-day journey in any direction to the nearest settlement and was surrounded by forest, closer to the environment of Lincoln’s home than the flat plains that were farther to the north.

She was becoming a recluse again like back on the Ark except this time by choice. She needed to socialize. She had dreamed of other people so often on the Ark and now that she had the opportunity, all she wanted to do was hide out with Lincoln. She knew he felt the same so it astounded her that he was even offering.

“Okay.” There would be only two other people at breakfast. It wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln probably won’t have *that* talk about what happened in Tondisi until a few of the new Season 3 episodes have aired so I can turn this into a more canon-compliant AU. In the meantime, enjoy the fluff, angst, and smut that will occupy this story...and maybe the eventual birth of their child (no promises for when, although I already have it partially written).


	8. I Have No Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln find a more permanent place to stay. Pure fluff. Not sure how I did on the Trigedasleng if anyone wants to correct me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thinking I’ll keep trying to update this series at least weekly while the season is airing, but no promises.

* * *

Breakfast was a pleasant yet slightly difficult ordeal. Octavia had forgotten how to make small talk. She and Lincoln rarely spoke with actual words so it was weird to have an actual conversation with someone, much less two people.

The owner, Julia, had turned her home into a _beinbe_ (as Julia called the _houm en dina_ ) simply because she had the most spare rooms in town. They did not get many visitors and Octavia and Lincoln were the first guests in over a month. Aside from running a usually empty _beinbe_ , she also ran a mill to process the grains she used for her bakery, explaining all the bread and pastries with every meal.

“So, where are you headed to next?” Julia asked conversationally as they were finishing breakfast.

“We were thinking of staying in the area,” Lincoln replied. “At least until after the baby is born.”

He gave Octavia a soft half-smile and she ducked her head, her cheeks flushing warmly under his gaze. Even after all they had been through, his smile was enough to cause butterflies in her stomach and it wasn’t from the baby kicking rather exuberantly this morning.

“Why did you come here?” Julia’s _houmon_ , Rachel, asked almost accusingly. All throughout breakfast, she had been abrasive toward the suspiciously close-mouthed strangers. Julia frowned at Rachel but she continued on. “Nobody comes here except on purpose because it’s not on the way anywhere.”

Octavia’s heart raced as her fear welled up and turned to anger. Lincoln’s hand rested heavily on her knee, stilling her tongue.

“We come from a small settlement back east and were looking for something similar,” Lincoln replied calmly, remaining purposefully vague. He squeezed her knee reassuringly.

“As long as you’re willing to contribute, we always welcome new folk,” Julia said, shooting a pointed look at Rachel. “You two seem capable enough.” She turned to Rachel, lifting her teacup to her lips. “What do you think?”

Rachel nodded in acquiescence and her features softened. “There’s the old Rockfield place.”

“What’s that?” Octavia asked, imagining a field full of rocks. She preferred trees.

“A place the Rockfields used to own,” Rachel explained dryly. “It’s probably the best option short-term if you want to stick around for a little while.”

“What happened to the Rockfields?” Lincoln asked cautiously.

“Oh, they passed on…what? Five years ago?” Rachel asked Julia.

“Closer to ten now, but their place requires the least amount of repairs.”

Octavia was fixated on the phrasing Rachel used. _Passed on_ , as in: not murdered, floated, killed, stabbed, shot, executed, tortured, irradiated, burned, exploded…. They had _passed on_. It sounded peaceful and fanciful and impossible. No one died that way in real life. 

* * *

After breakfast, Julia and Rachel sketched them a rough map of the outlying area and directions on the four-hour journey by foot to the Rockfield place. They arrived to find the home in good condition and only in need of some minor repairs to the exterior. It was a two-room cabin with a massive double-sided fireplace occupying the shared wall and there was also a loft accessible from a ladder in the main living area. Octavia immediately decided to make it their bedroom when she spotted the wooden shutter in the ceiling they could open at night to look at the stars.

“It’s perfect!” She breathed out, spinning around the large kitchen. It had a wood-burning stove and plenty of counter space for skinning and gutting their meals. There was even a sink with a water pump hooked up to an underground stream that traversed the property.

Lincoln grinned and captured her about the waist, hauling her in close for a kiss. “I like it, too.”

Her smile faded. “I’m nervous, Lincoln,” she admitted to him as her hands worried up and down his biceps. “I don’t think I know what to do when something good happens.”

“We’ll figure that out together.” He kissed her again until she forgot anything but the taste of him. “Now, do you want to hunt us up something to eat while I keep looking around or do you want me to handle it?”

She assessed her energy level. They had walked all morning and her feet were swollen (but they were always swollen at this point). “I’m still okay. I’ll get us lunch.”

He kissed her forehead and released her, turning to one of his bags he had set on the massive, hand-carved kitchen table. The edge was waist-high to Lincoln and she licked her lips, imagining the angle of enjoyment that might give them. He turned back around with one of his journals in his hand and caught her staring, her gaze now aligned with the front of his pants.

“I think we should probably clean up the place a bit first,” Lincoln said with practicality, dashing any hopes she might have had for a quickie.

She narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance, causing him to grin and shake his head.

“Later,” he promised as he kissed her once more on the forehead before moving past her and out the door to inspect the lay of the land.

* * *

After lunch, while Lincoln began some of the minor repairs needed on the roof, Octavia had dusted and cleaned the loft. Tomorrow, she would make some bedding but for tonight, she arranged their spare furs and pelts to create a soft layer for them on the hardwood floor.

In the kitchen, she dusted and scrubbed down all of the surfaces, thrilled to not have to walk to the well for buckets of water. She did not know how to use the pot-bellied stove but Lincoln said he would show her later. He was also going to have to teach her how to cook on it.

She looked out the kitchen window, seeing him shirtless and sweaty as he honed and sharpened various tools he found in a shed. Not swords. She would never have survived this long without his knowledge and skills. He sat on a tree stump as patches of sunlight dribbled through the leaves overhead, his skin glistening bronzed and glowing. She inhaled sharply, her cheeks flushing with desire. He might be thirsty. She snatched up their water containers and rinsed them out at the sink before filling them with the cold, clean water from the pump.

“Hey,” she called out to him as she walked outside. She held up his water flask. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

He set aside the ax head he was working on and smiled as he held his arms open to her, welcoming her to sit on his lap.

She passed him the flask as she climbed on his lap, wriggling against him, his sweaty skin soaking into her shirt. “Mmm.” She nuzzled at his neck, licking a salty swipe off him.

He chuckled. An actual chuckle. She stilled, her breath momentarily caught.

“I’m scared none of this is real,” she whispered to him. “Or that it’s somehow gonna be ruined.”

“Me too,” he whispered back as he tugged her closer, pressing her head against his chest while his other hand settled over her belly. “But that’s just because we’ve forgotten how to have hope.” He caressed her stomach. “ _Disha_ ,” he whispered into the top of her head. “ _Disha oso sonraun nau._ ” This is our life now. “ _Oso houm en oso fyucha_.”

She nodded, jarring a couple of tears loose and sending them dripping onto the back of his hand. She covered it with her own. “ _Oso houm en oso fyucha_.”


	9. If They Find Her*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia has her own demons to battle. Some smut and a bit of angst and fluff.

 

* * *

Bellamy found them the next morning. He raised his arm, the gun pointed straight at Octavia’s forehead.

“Octavia, get out of the way,” Bellamy said, his voice steady. “I don’t want to have to shoot you.”

Lincoln grabbed her arm, yanking her out of the gun’s range and putting himself in front of the barrel. Bellamy did not hesitate and fired, Lincoln crumpling before her. Dead. She screamed, her lungs collapsing from the grief, choking her, waking her.

“Uuuh!” she gasped, trying to breathe again. Lincoln was alive and awake, holding her in his arms and rocking her through her night terror.

“You’re okay. I got you.” One hand held her head against his chest so she could hear his heartbeat while the other caressed up and down her back. “You’re safe. You’re okay. I’m here.”

She trembled in his arms, the dream still so real that being awake felt an illusion. Sobs racked her body as she cried uncontrollably, trapped in the familiar anguish the nightmare always left behind. _Ba-bump, ba-bump,_ his heart thumped slow and steady beneath her ear as she tried to match her breaths to it.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his hand rubbing circles into her back. “I’m right here.”

She tried to clear her sleep-fogged vision as her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out. Lincoln had opened the shutter over the skylight before they had gone to bed last night and she looked up through the hole to the pre-dawn darkness, the silver and gold droplets of stardust as the only light twinkling back from the blackened sky. Part of the Ark was still up there somewhere, orbiting like a storm cloud hanging over her life and raining down on her attempts at happiness like some massive nightmare generator.

The easy nightmares were where she was trapped: under the floor, in lockup, in the dropship, underground in _Tondisi_ after the funeral. She rarely woke Lincoln up with those but she almost always woke him up when she was having one of her mass murder nightmares where she was surrounded by the cries of the dying; from Finn’s massacre, the missile bombing, and the second _Skaikru_ massacre at _Tondisi_ to the irradiation of Mount Weather. The worst nightmares, however, were the ones where Lincoln died. Those were the ones she woke up screaming or suffocating, her heart aching unbearably from the loss.

The residual panic inside was itching to be freed, bubbling up under her skin, keeping her anxious and edgy. Her arms slid around his waist as she hugged herself closer, becoming aware that she was naked and he was naked. She wanted. She _needed_.

“Please, Lincoln.” She begged, her mouth opening against his chest, her teeth scraping, her tongue licking. She moved her lips up the side of his neck, to that spot just underneath the corner of his jaw where his tattoo ended. She sucked hard, her tongue swirling out to tickle his skin caught between her lips. She sucked long enough to leave a mark before releasing, her teeth nipping at the spot left behind. He let out a little moan.

“I need to feel you inside me,” she whispered in his ear before capturing his earlobe and tugging on it with her teeth. Her hand reached between them, wrapping around his cock and stroking.

He gasped. “Whatever you need.”

She turned in his lap, her legs encircling his waist as she locked her ankles behind his back. He knew better than to prolong it for her when she was in this state. She sank down on him, a sigh of relief escaping as he filled her, her body throbbing and crying around him buried deep inside. She cupped his face, bringing him close and kissing him desperately as her hips rolled against his, his hands on her buttocks guiding her into a rhythm as he moved in and out of her. Fluidly and gracefully, their bodies danced together and apart.

He increased the pace as his hands went to her hips. Her ankles tightened around his waist, pulling their bodies closer, pulling him deeper inside until her head lolled back as every deliberate thrust from him forced a cry of pleasure from her. Her nails scratched along his back, clinging to him as he rocked his hips into hers, his cock slamming her closer to oblivion as she rode him faster.

“Aaah!” His fingers burrowed into the top of her mound, finding her clit and sending her walls quivering around him. He did it again. “Aaaaah!” Her body stiffened and her mind vacated as he sent her over the peak. “Lincoln!” She screamed his name in exultation.

He hauled her closer, his mouth opening against her neck where her own tattoo ended. He suckled on it, moaning as he continued ramming into her, sending her back up toward that zenith. His fingers dug into her hips as he pinned her onto his cock and his teeth bit down as he came. She sobbed as his warmth filled her, shattering her to pieces in his arms for a second time.

He collapsed back onto the furs, carrying her down with him, their chests heaving. She closed her eyes, unable to stop the cleansing tears as they trickled out from the corners of her eyes and onto his chest. His heart pounded beneath her ear, strong and fast. He was alive.

He shifted underneath her, slipping out of her and leaving her pouting as he turned them onto their sides, facing each other. His fingers glided along her temple and through her hair and she caught his hand, bringing it to her face. She rested his palm on her cheek as she gazed contently into his beautiful, dark eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her.

Her fingers tightened over his as she shook her head. At one time or another, she had told him all of her nightmares, even the ones where he died. He knew how each time he almost died became another nightmare for her where he _did_ die. He knew how he died in her arms instead of Maya or Artigas. He knew all the variations of him as a Reaper in her nightmares; some with his death, some with hers. He even knew of the one where Bellamy tortured him to death, but she had never told him this one. She couldn’t, not without having to tell him that Bellamy had shown up at their cave after she had saved him from the second _Tondisi_ massacre. She wasn’t ready to talk about any of it yet and neither was he.

“I don’t know why I’m all of a sudden falling apart,” she whispered into his palm. Both Lincoln and Indra had attempted to teach her to become more self-aware and not so quick to allow her emotions to control her reactions but she seemed to be failing at it lately.

He kissed her forehead. “Because you’re starting to feel safe so you’re letting your guard down.”

He was right, as always, her instinctively wise _houmon_. Ever since they crossed the Mississippi, she had felt more at ease. Lincoln’s renewed physical interest in her and Maria’s reassurances about the pregnancy had lifted the worst of her worries off her young shoulders and now they had a place to stay, no longer having to find shelter each night from unpredictable weather and unfamiliar terrain. This good fortune and tranquility frightened her almost as much as facing off against an _Azgeda_ warrior.

She tucked her head under his chin and sighed at the depressing realization that her fear stemmed from having more to lose the next time death rained down on them. Because life had taught her there was always a next time until she was dead herself. There was no escape.

She tried not to cry again but he heard her anyway. “You can cry if you want,” he whispered.

For some reason, that made her smile instead. He was telling her she was allowed to feel sad sometimes and she should stop being so hard on herself.

“ _Ai hod yu in, Lincoln._ ”  She tilted her head back and puckered her lips. He obliged her with a kiss.


	10. Trying to Make Peace*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln try to get used to peace and quiet.  
> NSFW

 

* * *

Before they ever ate a meal on the dining table, Lincoln had eaten her out first. He rarely instigated; his self-control usually outlasted hers, but there was a hunger inside him for her that had gone unmet when she got up first this morning (she had to pee and then she got hungry).

She had been picking her way through a bag of berries and nuts when he came up behind her, grinding his arousal into her buttocks as his teeth caught her earlobe. She had obviously not been the only one fantasizing about the kitchen table.

“You’re up early,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled her hips back against him.

“What are you up to, my _houmon_?” she asked, grinning at him as he spun her around.

He answered with a growl, his hands going to the front of her pants and yanking her close as his fingers did quick work unfastening them.  He shoved them down her legs and grabbed her under her buttocks, lifting her onto the edge of the table before kneeling in front of her to remove her pants from around her ankles. His hands moved up from her ankles, trailing along the back of her of her knees and grasping her by the inside of her thighs as he shoved her legs open. His mouth fell on top of her slit, his tongue licking wide. She shrieked in excited surprise.

He buried his face between her thighs and devoured her. His tongue dove and scooped and slurped as she whimpered and cried, her muscles clenching from the onslaught. He lifted her right leg up, opening her wider under his mouth, placing her foot onto the edge of the table as he feasted upon her mound, his fingers stroking along her nether-lips.

Her hands clung to his head bobbing up and down between her thighs as his tongue found her nub and he moaned, sending euphoric vibrations through her center. He pushed in two fingers, pressing immediately against her front wall as his tongue rubbed her clit. Her body wept and tightened around his fingers, throbbing and squeezing as that frenzied euphoria beckoned her over the edge.

“Oh, gods!” _Oh, goddesses!_ He wasn’t stopping. His fingers delved deeper, twisting, expanding, scraping. His tongue flickered and pulsed against her clit before sucking it between his lips. She screamed.

He stood up between her legs, undoing the front of his pants and shoving them down. He grabbed her by the hips and slid her to the edge of the table and onto his dick.

“Aah!” Her back arched as she saw stars. He pulled out and slammed into her again, harder. “Aaah!” She fell back on her palms, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth surface. “Aaaah!” She convulsed, collapsing flat onto the table, her arms stretching above her head, reaching for the other side as he sent her climaxing with each thrust. Over. “Aah!” And over. “Aaah!” And over again until she was begging and sobbing for him to finish it. “Please!”

His thumb moved to the top of her mound. “Yes!” She screamed, her muscles clamping down around him as her entire body shuddered and shook, quaking and trembling on a rolling crescendo of ecstasy.

Blissed out.

Lincoln collapsed halfway on top of her, his weight comfortingly heavy as he panted loudly, still reeling from his own release. She was unable to do much else than grin stupidly at him.

He smiled back, reaching out to brush the hair out of her face. “I like hearing you scream.”

She giggled. She had come a long way from the girl on the Ark who wasn’t even able to cry out loud. “I like it when you make me scream.”

* * *

The shed behind the cabin turned out to be much larger than she realized. Lincoln said it probably housed animals at some point. It was filled to the brim with various possessions the Rockfields once owned: broken chairs, old trunks filled with clothes and papers, dishware and utensils, all sorts of tools, and a variety of other household items that had been left behind.

Lincoln was overjoyed, of course, exclaiming over every knick-knack he came across and showing her trinket after trinket. She rolled her eyes at him and pointed to a trunk filled with the obese Rockfields’ clothing.

“Can you move that inside for me, please?” she asked. “I wanted to make some bedding.” Being six months pregnant added an extra layer of discomfort to everything. The hardwood floor last night had been particularly unforgiving and she did not plan on sleeping on it again tonight.

He set aside a handful of odds-and-ends he already managed to accumulate and hefted up the trunk. He carried it to the cabin for her, setting it down in the kitchen since that was currently the only room with furniture.

“I’ll take a look at those chairs and see if I can fix up a couple of them for us,” he said.

She nodded, eager to benefit from his handiwork. On their journey west, he had made intricate and delicate pieces of weaponry to trade, from bows and arrows to clubs and staffs. Now they were here and there was no longer a need to make weapons. Her eyes darted reassuringly to her sword, always within reach.

She had known her _houmon_ was good with his hands but she only just recently learned his talent extended to carpentry.  Earlier, he had also shared with her he was planning to build a proper set of stairs up to the loft before she was no longer able to use the ladder.

“Is there anything else you want me to keep an eye out for?”

She never had anything of her own so she wasn’t even certain what there might be for her to want. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Okay.” He kissed her on the forehead and left her alone with her trunkful of inspiration as she put her seamstress skills to use and began repurposing some of the oversized clothing, turning it into bedding and pillow casings.

She always found sewing relaxing, like a meditation for her thoughts. She had never admitted that to her mother, though, too stubborn and defensive at the time to appreciate being taught a worthwhile trade. That had been because she never expected to make it past her eighteenth birthday, much less be able to trade skills with people. She was accepting at a young age that she would eventually be caught by the guard; they were all surprised she remained hidden for as long as she did, expecting it to have come sooner. She knew the consequence of her life was death for her mother, her brother, and her. She never had a birthday without remembering it was also her future expiration date.

When she first landed on earth, she had thought she was free. She had jumped into that river and kissed those boys and girls because she wanted to taste life and experience the world for the short time she had left to live on it. Impetuous and unpredictable, she lived as though she were still set to die on her eighteenth birthday. Once that day had passed, it was as if she could take a breath. She had survived past her expiration date. She was no longer hell-bent on experiencing everything this world had to offer as quickly as possible. She just didn’t know how to live any other way but that.

* * *

There was one particularly hideous dress which Octavia decided to cut to pieces and sew with some scraps, turning it into a tablecloth for the kitchen. She cried when she placed it on the table. She had a tablecloth. She had a table. She had a kitchen. This couldn’t be real.

Lincoln entered carrying another trunk as she hastily wiped at her tears, not wanting him to catch her crying. Neither one of them was capable yet of talking about everything they had been through. It was easier to let the memories stay buried while they focused on getting the house in order before she was unable to help as much. It was as if they were both holding their breath. Waiting. Waiting until after the baby was born, maybe. Waiting until everything went to hell again, definitely.

“I found some dishes and things I thought we might use.” He set the new trunk down on the floor next to the other one. “Are you okay?” He noticed her puffy, red-rimmed eyes immediately.

“Yeah.” She turned away from him. “Look, I made a tablecloth.” She wasn’t certain he knew what a tablecloth was.

“Good job, _ai houmon_.” He enfolded her in his arms, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

He always accepted her changes in topics, understanding when she didn’t want to talk about whatever upset her. Unlike Bellamy, who used to needle her incessantly until she would blow up at him in rage. Those childhood memories brought back more recent rage-filled memories, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. A painful twinge of heartache squeezed through the anger and horror at what he had done and she recognized it for what it was. She was starting to forgive her brother.

* * *

As she rinsed off the last of the plates, she watched Lincoln rinsing himself off at the water pump outside. He reminded her of those marble statues in Bellamy’s history books, each muscle perfectly defined, chiseled as if from stone. He pulled his shirt back over his head and started walking toward the kitchen door. She quickly dried off her hands as he stomped the mud off his boots before stepping into the kitchen, his shirt collar wet from where he had cleaned up outside. He was wearing a mischievous grin and one hand was tucked behind his back. He had a surprise for her.

“What’s behind your back, Lincoln?” she asked coyly as she played along.

He brought his hand forward, presenting her with a bouquet of yellow wildflowers. She promptly and unexpectedly burst into tears again.

His finger under her chin nudged her face up out of the petals. “I’m gonna have to stop bringing you flowers if they keep making you cry,” he said lightheartedly.

She wrapped her arms around him, being careful not to crush the flowers as she buried her teary face into his shirt. “ _Ai hod yu in_ , Lincoln.”

They were still playing Pretend. Every day, they kept playing pretend. Pretending there was nothing to be sad about. Pretend. Each day it got easier to fall into pretend mode. Pretending to be happy was almost starting to feel real.

* * *

Octavia lay propped up on pillows she had made earlier, warm and drowsy and content, Lincoln’s head lay on her chest as he whispered in _Trigedasleng_ stories of his childhood to their _fyucha_. His hands gently roamed across her belly as he rubbed in Maria’s belly cream. She was only able to catch snippets of this particular conversation he was having with the baby. Something about learning how to climb trees with Anya that had her giggling at his playful tone. He smiled in response against her belly before he continued his whispering; this time she caught the phrase of “ _yu nomon_.”

“Do you think she can hear us?” Octavia asked, having given up on remaining gender neutral under Lincoln’s infectious enthusiasm for a daughter.

“Of course. We’re her _nomon_ and _nontu_.” He kissed her belly as he rolled her shirt back down.

"I was thinking Aurora or maybe...Indra?" She watched him carefully, gauging his reaction as she brought up names for the first time.

He scooted up next to her, tugging her into his arms. "Aurora."

She nodded, her head bumping into his chin. She understood; he wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. "What about for a boy?" Nyko had been the only name she came up with that she liked but she didn't suggest it.

“We’re not having a boy.” His hands moved back into place over her stomach.

She snorted, shaking her head. “You say that like you can control it.”

“Knowing something to be true does not mean I make it true.”

She grunted. “Okay, _Nontu_. Tell that to our son when he’s born.” She still threatened on occasion to give him a son when he got too arrogant about it.

He chuckled as he drew her closer, his hands massaging over her belly. “ _Ai hod yu in, ai sonraun en ai fyucha_ ,” he whispered into the top of her head.

 _Disha_ , right here, was happiness.


	11. To Those We've Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln try to get used to being happy and start to say goodbye to those they’ve lost. A bit of angst but mostly fluff.

 

* * *

She stared at the chestnut brown shirt, unable to get the image of Helios’ matching coat out of her mind. She missed her horse. She hoped Helios was being well-cared for and loved. Maybe she and Lincoln might be able to get another horse soon.

She began working on the shirt, transforming it into something new, something better than it once was. They had spent the past few weeks making repairs on the cabin and cleaning up the place. Lincoln had even collected various herbs and plants and created a small garden, promising to teach her how to care for it if she wished.

They had finally made use of the other room in the cabin. She rolled out a large fur in front of the fireplace and Lincoln had fixed up two chairs and a couple of side tables. It had become her ideal spot for sewing each evening as they winded down for the night. Lincoln was busy in the kitchen cleaning up dinner and every now and again, she was able to catch a glimpse through the fireplace of him.

Since they were no longer traveling, he had started her training again. It wasn’t as intense as before and he was overly cautious but Octavia still looked forward to it, having not forgotten about Maria’s advice to keep exercising. Her feet had even stopped swelling now that she was no longer walking miles each day.

“You don’t miss the walking, do you, Rory?” She ran her palm across her growing belly. _Remember me after I’m dead._ That had been one of the first sentences Lincoln had ever spoken to her. Octavia wanted to honor her troubled mother but she did not want to be constantly reminded of her and so she was trying out various nicknames. “Shh. Don’t tell your _nontu_ I’ve been calling you that.”

“Tell me what?” Lincoln came up behind where she sat, wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss on the top of her head. “What are you making there?”

She looked down at the brown material she had absent-mindedly begun sewing together and became aware of what she was creating. “Helios,” she whispered, her voice cracking on tears.

He came around to kneel in front of her. “Oh, Angel.” He tilted her face up to his and kissed her softly on the lips. “I’m sorry we had to sell Helios.”

She nodded, wiping away her tears. “It’ll be a stuffed animal for _oso fyucha_.”

“So you won’t forget.”

She nodded again as the tears returned. “I don’t know if I can do it, Lincoln.”

He cupped her cheek and gazed at her tenderly. “Do what?” he asked.

“Be happy.”

He smiled at her, a reaction she was not expecting. “You don’t have to be happy all of the time.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s just practice at being happy sometimes first, okay?”

The beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Practice at it?”

“Yeah, like training.” His thumb brushed across her cheek, wiping away some of her tears. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.”

* * *

During the day, if the weather was pleasant, she spent as little time as possible indoors. At night, she was learning to manage sleeping in the cabin, the skylight in the loft proving mostly effective against the feeling of being trapped. She might have also taken to sleeping with the stuffed version of Helios tucked in her arms to get her through till morning but Lincoln never made fun of her for it and simply tucked her into his own arms.

On those nights she was unable to remain indoors, she would wake Lincoln and he would go with her outside to sleep. He had created a little dugout for them a short distance into the woods, providing them with dry ground and shelter whenever she needed to escape, which was now down to about once a week. The semi-feral, scared, young girl she once was had matured into a tempered warrior and a determined _nomon_. She had responsibilities and a future to tend to now and she had never been happier than she sometimes was in her new _houm_ with Lincoln and their _fyucha_.

He brought her flowers every evening. Tonight’s bouquet was a vivid purple with black splotches and she danced her nightly flower dance about the cabin as she replaced the previous flowers laid about that were in need of replacing. She hummed as she spun around, her arms flinging wide in delight. Her _houmon_ was always so thoughtful, bringing the outside world in for her so she wouldn’t feel so trapped.

“Ahem.” Lincoln caught her about the waist, pulling her to a stop. He smiled down at her before giving her a loving peck on the lips. “I brought you something else, too.” He released her and moved out of the way so she could see behind him.

She gasped. “It’s a rocking chair!”

She reached out, her hand running along the soft finish before she pushed gently, setting the chair in motion. She turned back to Lincoln and threw her arms around his neck, plastering his face with kisses.

“I love you, Lincoln.” She kissed him again. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” She punctuated each sentence with another kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Octavia.” He kissed her back.

* * *

She pricked her finger with the needle, too distracted to concentrate on her stitches. She was making her first baby shirt and the giddiness was keeping her off-focus. Everything was almost too perfect. They still kept their guard up but had relaxed their constant vigilance. There was no one around for miles in any direction and she no longer jumped at every foreign noise, having become accustomed to most of them by now.

Earlier that afternoon, Lincoln finished the new staircase up to the loft. He had built it against the right wall, explaining that if an attacker came up the stairs, they were most likely right-handed and the wall might inhibit their movements. Her _houmon_ was a strategic genius.

She glanced over at where he was seated in the chair across from her. He was sketching quietly in his journal, a tragically sad look on his face. It was his secret journal, the one he usually only worked on in the mornings when she was asleep (or trying to be). She didn’t want him sad right now when she was making their baby’s clothes.

Oops, she got a drop of blood on the light blue cloth. She set it aside, rocking up out of her chair and to her feet and made her way over to stand in front of him. They saved each other when the other one needed it. Yesterday, she needed it; today, it was Lincoln who was back to battling his demons.

“Lincoln.” She climbed on his lap, taking his journal out of his hand and putting it on the table next to him. “You have no idea how much you do for me, do you?”

He shook his head. “Not as much as you do for me.”

“This isn’t a competition.” She frowned at him, pretending to be cross. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have been dead two weeks after I landed. Every day, you teach me something new.” She leaned forward and kissed him, her belly squishing between them as she tried to get closer, making her giggle. “This world sucks and you make it suck a little less.”

He stared at her intently, his mouth open as if he were about to reply. Tears filled his eyes and he blinked rapidly before turning to the side table and picking up his journal. He hesitated a moment before passing it to her wordlessly.

Her own tears threatened to return, always so close to the surface. He was trusting her with this most painful part of his heartache. She reverently opened the cover, afraid to breathe on its sacred pages and in awe that he was willing to share this with her.

She blinked, jarred from her careful contemplation by Fio’s stupid face grinning back at her. Lincoln had captured him so flawlessly, it was as if she were staring at his photograph.

“This is amazing, Lincoln.”

“I didn’t want to forget them.” He cleared his throat, his voice struggling with emotion. “I wanted to make sure they were remembered.”

She turned the page to an image of Artigas and Penn, their bows on their backs and sitting side-by-side high up in a tree-top, laughing and waving to where she assumed Lincoln must have been sitting across from them on another tree branch. These were his memories. These were his people.

“I was….” He cleared his throat again, his brow furrowing as if he were uncertain. That wasn’t possible; Lincoln was never uncertain. “I wanted to ask you if….”

“Yes.” She readily agreed. “Whatever you need, _ai houmon_.” It was her turn to be there for him like he was always there for her. She kissed him for emphasis.

He smiled at her, the worry lines fading away under her eagerness to assist. “Would you write their stories down for me, please?”

She swallowed, her throat clogging on another ball of tears. She nodded, unable to speak. She ducked her head under his chin so he wouldn’t see her sadness and try to make it his own.

“Thank you, _ai sonraun_ ,” he whispered to her, his lips pressing into her hair. He laid his cheek on the top of her head as his hand came to rest on her belly. ~~Rory~~ (dammit) _the baby_ kicked back, saying hello to her _nontu_. He chuckled, lifting the somber mood and returning them to their sometimes happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please notice that I am now using the new "Official Linctavia" Fandom tag on all my works. This might finally help us quickly find the Linctavia fics on here.


	12. I Don't Trust Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln return to Julia’s and learn more about Rachel’s past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a death in the family a couple of weeks ago which is why this update has been so delayed. I'm getting back into my normal routines and will be trying to keep to the weekly update schedule again.
> 
> I've also stopped watching this piece of trash show and have decided to ignore most of Season 3, starting with Bellamy (he's no longer directly culpable in the massacre).

  

* * *

Once a week, they would go into town and have dinner at Julia’s, spending the night and returning to their cabin the next day with their weekly supplies. It had been Lincoln who suggested the visits, seeing her growing restless and anxious. He didn’t want her feeling trapped again, isolated and alone like when she grew up on the Ark. He was right, as always. Seeing Julia and Rachel each week was enough to keep those feelings at bay. Sometimes Maria would visit, with or without some of her children and/or husband; sometimes there would be other people who lived in town or the area who stopped by, but so far no new strangers. Octavia was still waiting, expecting someone to show up, someone who might expose them or drag her back to the place where her nightmares were real.

They arrived at the _beinbe_ in the early afternoon. Octavia had sewn two new shirts from material Julia had provided her and Lincoln brought a parcel of furs and pelts to trade for this week’s room and board. They exchanged hugs and pleasantries with Julia and Rachel before heading to their room. She really enjoyed Julia’s company, with her bright laugh and huge smile. Rachel, not so much.

“Why doesn’t Rachel like me?” she asked Lincoln once they were alone in their room.

He paused from unpacking his bag to consider her question carefully. “I think you just rub each other the wrong way.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It goes deeper than that.” She chewed on her lip thoughtfully while Lincoln resumed unpacking. “She doesn’t trust us still.”

Lincoln hummed in response, not paying attention anymore.

“I think she’s hiding something.”

“What?” That regained his attention.

“Yeah.” Octavia nodded. “She’s so suspicious of us because she’s got something to hide.”

He chuckled. “We’ve all got something to hide.”

Octavia frowned at him and he grinned back, shaking his head as he walked away toward the bathroom. Dammit. She had been so distracted by Rachel’s aloofness that Lincoln had made it to the bathroom first. The hot bath was her most favorite part of their weekly trips. She sighed and plopped down onto the bed, content to take a nap as she waited for him to finish his turn.

* * *

Lincoln’s lips softly kissing her belly woke her from her slumber. “ _Ha ste ai gada?_ ”

“Mmm.” She stretched her arms above her head, satiated from her nap. “Which girl?”

He grinned triumphantly back at her as she realized she had just admitted to him they were having a daughter.

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

He continued smiling.

“ _You_ called her a girl,” she said with exasperation, pointing her finger at him.

He laughed out loud and grabbed her finger, tugging her up into a sitting position. “Come on, _Nomon_. Your bath is gonna get cold if you keep arguing over something you can’t change.”

“You already drew up a bath for me?” She asked as he took off her shirt. He was good at distracting her.

“You were still sleeping,” he replied, crouching down before her to undo her boots.

Her hand caressed the top of his head, loving the slick feel of his freshly shaved scalp under her fingertips. He still had his mohawk that she loved so much, the prickling of it tickling her palm. Her own hair was different now. She no longer had the need for as many braids since she was able to wash her hair regularly. The few she did have were from when Lincoln still absentmindedly braided her hair when they were falling asleep or waking up.

He finished removing her socks and shoes before capturing her hand and sliding it down to his cheek as he gazed up at her with love in his eyes. She smiled back.

“ _Ai hod yu in_ ,” he said before he leaned forward and pressed another kiss on her bare belly. “Both of my girls.”

He helped her to her feet and then out of her pants before sweeping her up into his arms.

“I’m capable of still walking, you know.” She protested as he carried her into the bathroom

“Yeah, but I like holding you.”

He winked at her and she felt a trembling in her heart as she remembered that first time ~~he carried her~~ she was conscious when he carried her after he had saved her life from Roma’s fate. Her hand went back up to cup his cheek again.

“ _Mochof,_ Lincoln.”

He gave her a tender smile and kissed her palm before slowly lowering her into the steamy bathwater.

“Oooo.” She moaned in happiness.

He leaned over the side of the tub and kissed her forehead. “Don’t fall asleep again and call me when you want me to wash your hair.”

She nodded, her eyes falling closed as she sank further into the water, relaxation and warmth settling into her body.

* * *

She had fallen asleep anyway and he woke her up just as the water started to cool. She wanted him to do more than wash her hair but he protested with an unfair argument that they were already running late for dinner.

It was a full house that evening with Maria bringing her entire family. Rosie took charge of her siblings and set them up at a smaller table in the kitchen, allowing Maria and her husband, Luke, to join the rest of the adults in the dining room.

Maria winked at Octavia. “That’s why it’s a good idea to have more than one kid.”

Octavia smiled back shyly. She wasn’t prepared to have one kid, much less two.

“Here.” Maria held a bag out to her. “I brought you some clothes that no longer fit.”

Octavia accepted it gratefully, having received similar gifts from Maria in previous weeks. This time she came prepared. “I made you some baby blankets with the leftover fabric Julia gave me. I wasn’t sure if you would be here tonight but I can go get it for you before you leave.”

Maria laughed joyously. “Oh, I am so glad to have met you.” She pulled Octavia into a hug as close as their pregnant bellies would allow them. “You are a dear friend.” She kissed Octavia on the cheek before releasing her.

Maria had just called her a friend. As the tears welled up, Octavia’s eyes reflexively sought out Lincoln’s broad shoulders where he stood across the room talking to Julia. Since her only experience at friendship was with Clarke, Octavia was scared to be that vulnerable again. Always instinctive to her needs, Lincoln turned and caught her gaze, smiling encouragingly at her.

“How’s the momma doing?” Maria asked her, drawing Octavia’s attention back to her newfound friend.

“I feel great.” Octavia grinned, meaning the words for once. Ever since Maria’s first visit, every worry she had about the pregnancy had dissipated one-by-one. She was still apprehensive over the birth but even those concerns were becoming alleviated by Maria’s knowledge and compassion.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Maria wrapped her arm around Octavia’s side and gave her a squeeze. “I know we just did one last week but after dinner, I can do another check-up if you would like.”

“Sure.” Octavia agreed. “I know how much Lincoln likes listening to the baby.”

“They all do.” Maria chuckled. “It’s their way of experiencing for just one moment what we get to experience every moment.”

Octavia smiled, feeling the tears returning again. This time it was due to an odd nostalgia for knowing she would no longer be pregnant soon. She ran her hand along her belly, silently cooing her love to Rory.

Rachel entered the dining room, carrying a large platter with Luke following behind, bringing several smaller dishes.

“Ah, dinner is ready,” Maria said, leaving Octavia’s side to go join her husband at the table.

Octavia found her way to her unassigned-assigned seat, next to Lincoln and across from Maria and Luke. This was the part she hated the most about their visits. She wasn’t good at socializing and she had never learned table manners. Lincoln was just as lost as she was when it came to silverware but, considering he rarely talked, he was still a better conversationalist than her. Lincoln knew how to ask engaging questions, keeping the focus off of them whereas Octavia was overly defensive and wary, shoveling food in her mouth whenever anyone asked her too personal a question.

The conversation eventually meandered to the people who lived in the area and the various skills they brought with them. Along with Julia’s bakery and Rachel’s butcher shop, there were several mills, a brewery and distillery, a tannery, and a barber.

“But no tailor,” Luke said, winking at Octavia.

Octavia smiled back. She liked Maria’s husband almost as much as she liked Maria.

“Remember the Logans?” Maria asked. “Wasn’t he a tailor? They lasted about five years here, I think.”

“Yeah, they moved back to Dia,” Rachel replied. “There’s a lot of land but there aren’t a lot of people in this area. It can be a lonely life if you’re not used to it.” She looked discouragingly at Octavia.

Octavia gritted her teeth. “We’re used to it.” Lincoln’s hand came to rest on her knee in warning.

“Dia?” Lincoln asked, attempting to redirect the conversation back to a safer topic.

“One of those places that survived the end of the world,” Luke replied indifferently. “They’re all over the place. Underground cities built before the war for the intent to house as many of the elite as possible. Some of them were overrun or died out. Some of them survived and flourished.”

Octavia grabbed hold of Lincoln’s hand on her leg, squeezing it fearfully as she remembered the horrors of Mount Weather.

“How far away is it?” Lincoln remained outwardly calm and curious but Octavia could see the pulse throbbing in his neck.

“Oh, it’s far, far away,” Maria said. “Days by car, weeks by horse or by foot.”

“Yeah, Pensmore is much closer,” Luke said. Maria must have kicked him under the table because he turned and looked at her, asking, “What?” as Maria motioned toward Rachel who had suddenly became very interested in her grits.

Octavia’s skin went cold. Lincoln’s hand moved from her knee to the small of her back, trying to get her to relax.

“Rachel was born in Pensmore,” Julia explained, mistaking their unease for confusion. “It’s been around since before the war. It’s why this town is so self-sufficient. They’ve helped revitalize the area.”

Rachel snorted in disgust. “Helped...,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Why don’t you live there anymore?” Lincoln asked Rachel as his hand continued rubbing circles against Octavia’s back.

“I prefer my freedom.”

Octavia’s head jerked up from her plate as she tensed up again. “They imprisoned you?”

“No!” Julia interrupted quickly. “Rachel makes it to be much worse than it is. She just doesn’t like big cities.” She lifted her glass of tea to her lips, raising an eyebrow at Rachel in their way of silent communication.

Rachel sighed, her hardened visage softening. “Most people prefer living in Pensmore because it’s fully equipped and virtually untouched by the war. Some of us prefer the simpler life.”

“What about the radiation?” Octavia asked, remembering Maya’s melting face and gasping last breaths as she and the other residents of Mount Weather succumbed to its effects.

“Pensmore brought enough of the scientific community with them that they solved that problem with genetic engineering before the war,” Rachel replied. “Maria and Julia’s parents were from Pensmore. I was born and raised there.”

“And I’m a native.” Luke waved. “Naturally immune.”

“Like me,” Lincoln said before glancing at Octavia. “Like us.”

“How far away is Pensmore?” Octavia asked, dreading the answer.

“A day or so by foot, a few hours by car but good luck finding someone to take you,” Julia replied.

“Like I said, we’re not on the way to anywhere so no one ever comes this way without a reason.” Rachel frowned at Octavia, making it clear she still doubted their explanations for being here.

Octavia wasn’t sure she wanted to be here anymore, either. She wanted to flee, to get Lincoln away from Pensmore before they could destroy him like Mount Weather had tried to do, but there was nowhere else for them to go. Luke had mentioned all those existing pre-war cities and now they loomed threateningly on the horizon in every direction. No place was safe for them, not even here.


	13. I Wanted to Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln learn more about Pensmore.

 

* * *

“Lincoln, we have to leave,” Octavia whispered furiously to him as he closed the door to their room. Maria would be coming up soon for her check-up and they didn’t have much time to talk.

“Hey, hey.” He caught her mid-pace, waiting for her to look at him. “Let’s think about this.”

She turned her head away again. “They’re everywhere,” she said despondently, even as she tried to hold onto her fear and anger. It was the only thing keeping the all-consuming depression from creeping back over her.

“Octavia,” he drawled out her name in the way that sent shivers up her spine. She rolled her eyes as she looked back at him, knowing he said it that way on purpose. “Rachel lives here and she doesn’t like Pensmore. Focus on that.”

She shook her head. “I wanted to leave Arkadia and you wanted to stay.”

“Octavia.” This time he said her name more sternly as he took her hand in his, his thumb rubbing against the back of it. “You were right about Arkadia and I’m not saying you’re wrong now. Let’s just not be too hasty.”

He was almost as scared as she was, she saw it in his eyes, but he wasn’t ready give up and she wasn’t certain she was ready yet, either. “Can you talk to Maria for me, please?” she asked. He was better at that sort of questioning than she was. “About Pensmore?”

He nodded, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “We’ll figure it out.”

A knocking on the door signaled Maria’s arrival. Lincoln opened the door for her and Rosie while Octavia climbed onto the bed, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible so she could be alone with Lincoln again. Her eyes sought out his and he sat next to her on the bed, taking her hand in his again and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Maria began the exam, asking questions and taking measurements as she jotted down notes into the journal she carried with her everywhere.

“Another month and a half to go and you’ll be holding your baby soon,” Maria said with a smile. She reached out and took Lincoln’s other hand, placing it along a hard ridge on Octavia’s stomach. “That’s the baby’s spine.” She moved his hand to another spot on Octavia’s belly, pointing out the baby’s anatomy beneath the skin. “Here’s an elbow.”

Octavia watched Lincoln’s face closely as the baby seemed to come alive beneath his prying fingertips, moving and rolling and presenting him with a fist or a foot to tickle. He grinned with elation, briefly releasing her hand to wipe away the tears that started falling.

“Have you thought of any names yet?” Maria asked as she passed Rosie her notebook. Rosie was an artist like Lincoln and sketched images of pregnant bellies into her mother’s book for comparison each visit.

“Rory,” Octavia replied, admitting for the first time that whether she had a boy or a girl, she now thought of her _fyucha_ as Rory.

Lincoln smiled widely, one of the biggest smiles she had ever seen from him. “Rory,” he repeated.

“That’s a lovely name,” Rosie said.

Maria nodded in agreement. “Some of my kids, they told me their names before they were born.”

“Others, like Jack, weren’t named for months after they were born!” Rosie began cackling about her younger brother’s initial lack of a name.

“It was only a few weeks.” Maria frowned lovingly at Rosie and shooed her out of the way as she moved to her medical bag.

“Why did your parents leave Pensmore?” Octavia blurted out, too impatient to wait any longer for Lincoln to raise the question naturally.

Maria glanced up from digging through her bag in surprise. “Is that why you seem so anxious?” She deserted her bag, coming over to sit beside them on the bed. “Rosie, go brew us some tea, please.”

Rosie nodded, knowing her responsibilities as her mother’s assistant, and scurried out of the room.

Octavia scooted up to a sitting position as Maria reached for her other hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything specific but I’ve seen your scars.” She patted the back of Octavia’s hand.

Octavia looked to Lincoln, on the brink of another breakdown, silently asking him to take over the conversation.

“Where we’re from, there was a city like Pensmore,” Lincoln said. “They weren’t very nice to the…natives.” He used the terminology that Luke had used at dinner.

Maria nodded solemnly. “Pensmore was like that. My parents were scientists, Eugenicists, specifically. They were sent out to recruit new citizens, bring an influx of desirable genes into the stagnant gene pool.” She spoke dispassionately, as if reading from a textbook. “They sampled the local population, picking and choosing who would be the best matches, with Pensmore making false promises to entice them to move.”

“What happened?” Lincoln asked, his expression was guarded but there was a glinting menace to his gaze and his grip on Octavia’s hand tightened.

“My parents soon refused to be a part of it and left, coming here to start over. There was eventually a rebellion, prompting enough changes in policy that now they leave the natives alone and allow people to come and go as they wish.”

“What about Rachel?” Octavia asked.

“Her mother was originally from here, one of the natives Pensmore made promises to, but the rest of the story is for her to tell.” Maria stood up again and returned to her bag, digging through it. She turned back around with the fetal stethoscope in hand. “So are you two planning to leave now?”

“Should we leave?” Octavia asked, wanting to trust Maria.

“As your midwife, I advise you to at least wait until after the baby is born if you really want to leave.” Maria shrugged. “As a friend, we wouldn’t be living here if Pensmore was still a threat if that gives you any comfort.”

Rosie returned with the tea tray and set it down on the table before bouncing over to Lincoln’s side. “Did my mom ask you yet?”

“No,” Maria answered. “We were busy discussing other things. Now let them listen to their baby and we can have that conversation over tea when we’re done.”

Rosie sat down in a chair, a contrite look on her face as she waited for them to finish up. Octavia grinned and winked at her, feeling a particular kinship with Rosie that made her excited for a daughter of her own. She glanced over at Lincoln, seeing that beautiful smile of his as he listened intently to their little baby’s heartbeat. This was _his_ favorite part of their weekly visits. He caught her watching him and extended his smile to include her in his moment with their _fyucha_.

Maria got up from the bed to leave them some privacy, moving to sit in the only other chair across from Rosie and began serving up the tea for them. Along with her belly cream, Maria also supplied Octavia with a concoction of leaves and spices that helped aid digestion and circulation and any number of other ailments that befell expectant mothers (and was good for anxious husbands, too). Maria explained having a cup of her tea each night before bed helped warm the heart and soul and banish ill thoughts and spirits. Her tea didn’t exactly banish the nightmares but it had become a soothing nighttime ritual for them anyway.

Lincoln finished his moment with the baby, placing a final kiss on Octavia’s belly and whispering, “ _Ai hod yu in_ , Rory,” before leaning up to peck a kiss on the tip of Octavia’s nose. He helped her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and passed her a cup of the hot tea before sitting down next to her with his own cup.

Lincoln raised his tea cup to Maria in thanks before taking a sip. He turned his attention to Rosie, smiling conspiratorially at her. “Now, what were you gonna ask me?”

“My cat had kittens a little while ago,” Rosie replied, grinning excitedly. “Do you want a kitten?”

“What would we do with a cat?” Octavia asked.

“Sure,” Lincoln replied. Octavia choked on her tea while Lincoln patted her on the back. “We were thinking about getting a horse, too.” That made her cough harder. Wishing for a horse had been part of their game of pretend but now he was trying to make it real.

“Cats are great at catching vermin,” Maria replied to Octavia’s question. “They take care of themselves for the most part. As to horses….” She shrugged. “I’ll ask around and let you know if I hear of anything but you might be better off finding a ride back to _Sanlouey_ and purchasing one there.” _Sanlouey_ was the sprawling settlement on the Mississippi they had passed through on their way here.

“I was hoping we’d have a horse before Octavia goes into labor,” Lincoln replied, revealing to Octavia for the first time that he was also nervous about the birth.

Maria nodded in understanding. “I’ve got myself on the schedule for the town car this week. I wanted to drive out to visit you two and discuss the birth plan. I’ll be bringing a two-way radio for you to keep on hand in case an emergency comes up.”

“And a kitten,” Rosie added.

Lincoln smiled. “And a kitten.”


	14. They'll Know We're Here*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia and Lincoln debate whether they should keep running or stay.  
> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy smut thrown in. I think we’ll need it after tomorrow night’s episode. Don’t forget Official Linctavia #officiallinctavia is where Lincoln lives forever.

  

* * *

“It’s too much responsibility,” she said to Lincoln once they were alone again.

“Octavia,” he replied with a long-suffering sigh. “We’re about to have a baby. How is a tiny little cat ‘too much responsibility’ in comparison?”

“What are we going to do? Take it with us when we leave?”

“We don’t have to ever leave,” he whispered uncertainly, saying it out loud; those words that terrified her because she wanted to believe them as much as he seemed to.

“They’ll know we’re here,” she said despairingly. “They’ll figure it out somehow. Either Pensmore or Arkadia.”

He shook his head. “If anyone was looking for us, they’re not any longer.”

She narrowed her eyes at him in doubt. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because there is no one left to care.”

She wanted to argue with him until she realized he was right. Indra and Nyko were dead like everyone else in Lincoln’s life. Bellamy, if he was still alive, no longer cared. The grief started welling up inside again. “Lincoln….” She blubbered as she tried not to cry.

He was in front of her in an instant, hugging her close, cupping her face, his thumb brushing away the tears that started to fall.

“Try not to think of that right now, okay?” He gave her a placating smile. “Think of how it means we’re safe.”

She nodded. He was telling her he couldn’t deal with her grief at the moment, perhaps too caught up in his own. She turned her head away, feeling self-pity for adding to his burden instead of helping him carry it.

“Hey.” He caught her chin, bringing her face back to his. “If you want to talk about it now, we can. But I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it.”

She frowned at him, her self-pity turning to guilt because it hadn’t been him refusing her need; it had been him once again knowing her better than she knew herself. “No, not until we have to.” Sometimes all the emotions were too much for her to handle.

“Okay.” He kissed her on the lips. “Let’s get to bed and figure this out tomorrow when we’re back _houm_.”

They undressed and she crawled into bed while Lincoln turned out the lights. He crawled in behind her, pulling her back against his chest and tucking his head into her neck. She took one of his hands in hers. She used to move his hand up to her face, holding it against her cheek when she wanted comforting. It was residual from all those years clinging to her stuffed toy, Gussie, when she was hiding under the floor during inspections. Now, she moved it over the life growing inside her, where her heart currently resided with their _fyucha_.

His fingers traveled in circles over her belly. He tickled first at her navel before spiraling further out, his touch turning from playful to sensuous. His lips moved into the crook of her neck, nibbling and sucking as his other hand moved her hair out of the way.

“ _Ai sonraun_ ,” he whispered into her ear before taking her earlobe tenderly between his teeth. His hand moved down the swell of her belly, his fingertips brushing the top of her mound. “ _Ai fyucha_.”

She moaned, her hips jutting back against his arousal as his hand moved between her thighs. His fingers traced along her folds, making her throb and weep under his touch. She covered his hand in hers, rubbing up against him, whimpering as his fingertips dug into the top of her mound, searching for her clit.

She turned in his arms, her fingers skimming down his belly, her nails scraping lightly as he sucked in his breath. She wrapped her hand around his cock, feeling it twitch beneath her fingers. She squeezed tight and stroked a couple of times until his eyes fell closed and his hips jerked forward. She shoved him over onto his back and climbed on top of him.

She guided him to her entrance, easing down on him. She wasn’t fully ready yet but it was erotic in itself the way her body hungrily stretched and soaked around him, quickly wanting more. She moaned as she straightened up over him, taking him in all the way to the hilt.

His hands moved to her hips, steering her into rhythm as she rolled her hips forward and up, rising off him before rocking back down again, faster and deeper each time. His fingers trailed along her sides, over her belly, up to her nipples, pinching and tugging on them. She moaned, her head falling back as she grabbed onto his wrists, her hips gyrating faster as the desire continued building, bringing her closer to that sweet release.

“Lincoln!” She gasped his name as his hand rose to her cheek, his thumb pressing to her lips. She sucked on its pad, her teeth grazing but gentle. Her limbs began to tremble and quiver as waves of pleasure washed over her, her body dissolving and melting, a momentary escape to paradise. He grunted as his other hand moved back down to her hip, holding her in place as he slammed up into her once, twice, then a third time. He groaned, collapsing limply beneath her.

She slid off him and tucked herself into his side, comforted and satiated enough to fall asleep after the day’s turmoil. “ _Ai hod yu in, Lincoln_.”

* * *

“Unh!”

Lincoln’s soft cry jerked her from her sleep. He was no longer tucked in behind her but was on the opposite side of the bed, his back to her, his shoulders shaking as he whimpered in his sleep.

“Lincoln?” She whispered as her hands moved up his back and around to his chest. She placed a kiss into his shoulder. “Wake up, my love.”

He whined, his body twitching beneath her, trapped in whatever nightmare was visiting him tonight. She held him close, her pregnant belly pressing into his back as she kissed him and quietly spoke to him, gently trying to wake him.

“Lincoln, _ai niron, gyon op_.” _Trigedasleng_ usually worked best on breaking through his sleep state. She used a corner of the sheet to wipe the sweat off his brow. “ _Beja_ wake up, _Niron_.”

He gulped and shuddered, his eyes slamming open as his nightmare ended, whether by waking or by his death in his dreams.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Her hands ran reassuringly along his heated skin. “I’m here, you’re here. We’re okay.”

He turned over to face her, breathless and disoriented, his hand moving up to cradle her face, to make sure she was really okay and he was really here with her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

He opened his mouth, about to speak as tears filled his eyes. He shook his head, his hand moving down to rest over her belly.

Oh, one of those nightmares where he was under the influence of the Red again. Unlike all their other nightmares, his redmares had only gotten worse over the time and distance. Now, instead of eating her alive, he tore their baby out of her and ate their _fyucha_ in front of her while she screamed.

She knew what he wanted, what he needed. He was still half-asleep but now fully aroused. He shifted her onto her back, lifting her legs up over his hip and bringing his cock flush against her entrance from behind. He leaned over her, smiling sleepily before taking her lips in his. His hand caressed over her belly again before slipping between her legs.

“Mmm.” She hummed into his mouth as his fingers sought out her clit, massaging it slowly. “Oh!” He increased the pressure with his fingers as his tongue dipped into her mouth, his hips pushing forward as the tip of his shaft nudged against her entrance.

She opened her legs wider to him, bucking against him in tempo with his fingers, enticing him to enter her, swelling and dripping each time she brushed her folds along his rod. Her first orgasm was almost upon her and she wanted to come with him inside her. His fingers moved away from her clit, spreading her lips open as he gave one long hard thrust into her and . . . .

“Aaah!” Her scream of ecstasy was muffled by his mouth as her walls clamped and sobbed in joy around him.

His fingers moved back over her clit as he began to shallowly thrust into her, keeping her pleasure sustained as his tongue delved deep, plundering her mouth as his cock and fingers plundered her nether lips. Her body was rising to a frenzied pitch as her climax continued to mount. He pulled his mouth away from hers, out of breath as he watched her expression of joy.

“ _Ai hod yu in_ , Octavia.” He said her name in that drawn-out way that sent her muscles convulsing around him. “ _Ai sonraun_.” His eyes fell closed as he neared his own release. His fingers moved away from the top of her mound to glide across her belly, his palm resting possessively over their baby. “ _Ai fyucha_.”

Her head lulled as her back arched and her body stiffened. Sweet, blissful tranquility; an infinite universe of three. She faintly heard Lincoln’s corresponding groan of release, his face distorted in splendorous peace as he filled her with his seed.

She was crying, unable and unwilling to stop the cleansing tears even as she smiled tremulously through them.

He smiled back at her, understanding her tears for what they were as one of his own splashed onto her cheek. “ _Mochof, Nomon_.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry for not leaving Arkadia after the Commander lifted the kill order.”

“Lincoln….” She poked him in the chest. “Stop apologizing for being you.” There had been so many reasons behind him wanting to stay and she had never blamed him for it even if he still wasn’t able to forgive himself.

“I was wrong before, Octavia. Maybe I’m wrong now and we need to leave.”

She sat up on her elbow, leaning over him, his face somber and long in the early morning shadows. She ran a finger across the small scar above his brow. “No,” she said with certainty. “You were right. We should stay a little longer.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips as she prayed to their ancestors that this time, it wasn’t her turn to be wrong.


	15. Ste Yuj

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had already written this for a prompt before the episode aired last night and I debated whether or not to post this at all but after advisement from some of the Linctavia Writing Kru, here it is.
> 
> Trigger warnings: Octavia accidentally hurts herself (not too badly but there is lots of blood). She doesn’t take care of it and is not handling things well, scaring Lincoln.

 

* * *

They left Julia’s almost immediately after breakfast the next morning. Rachel did not offer much more information on Pensmore than what Maria had provided them the night before and had closed down the discussion before either Octavia or Lincoln could pry further. Octavia was edgy and anxious once more, a restless energy urging her to run. When they arrived _houm_ , Lincoln grabbed their stockpile of weapons and led her behind the cabin to where they had set up their training space.

“Take your pick.” He gestured toward the heap of swords, daggers, and knives.

“Hand-to-hand,” she said, barely glancing at the pile of blades. She needed to get physical to cure her agitation and their fights always ended too soon when using weapons.

He nodded and moved into position, crouching down low and beckoning for her to make the first move. Both Lincoln and Indra had taught her to use her speed and size to her advantage. She was still no match against Lincoln’s years of training but because he was terrified of hurting her (even more so the larger her stomach grew), he was limited on the moves he would make against her.

He deflected her first blow but her second one caught him in the side before she spun away again. He followed after, catching her arm and twisting it painfully before she managed to whirl out from under him and reverse the hold, bringing him to the ground. She yanked on his arm as she kneed him in the back. She was eight months pregnant, she was pissed off, and she was playing dirty. She released his arm and moved away again, giving him time to stand.

He didn’t stand up; instead he swept her leg out under her, sending her crashing into his arms as he caught her delicately. He was the worst sparring partner. She elbowed him in the face as she sprang back to her feet, the tension and anger still simmering. She needed it to boil over and he wasn’t cooperating.

He frowned as he stood up with one hand fingering his injured cheek. Then he was on her, fast and brutal, his fists and feet flying as he rained blow after blow upon her. She was faster, blocking each strike while anticipating the next. Same moves, same pattern, same dance.

She was never going to get any stronger if she never learned anything new. She didn’t want to play their regular game anymore. She changed it up, sneaking in a few return hits, causing him to stumble and lose his rhythm. She took her advantage with a right jab, left hook, and a vicious kick to the gut, sending him flying back and skidding across the dirt.

“Oomph!” Lincoln shook his head as his eyes narrowed at her.

She smiled menacingly back. His cheek was already starting to swell under his right eye from where she elbowed him earlier and it pleased her. She was not weak, she did not need to be coddled or placated. She was _Okteivia kom Trikru_ and she was not going to be fucked with again. Not by the _Skaikru_ , not by Mount Weather, and certainly not by Pensmore.

Lincoln came after her once more, a little more pep in his punches than before. He tried his best, he really did, and she loved him for it but his gentle caution was no match for her wild fury today. Her fist to his jaw had his head snapping back.

“Uhn!” His hand came up to the corner of his mouth, wiping away blood. She came at him again but he held up his bloody fingers in surrender. “ _No mou_.”

“What? You’re gonna give up that easy? It’s only a little bit of blood.” The taste of battle was on her tongue now and she was just getting started.

He opened his mouth and then shut it again as he decided not to respond to her taunts, shaking his head instead.

“ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.” She practically sneered it at him.

“Look, Octavia.” He frowned at her, a hard glint in his eye. “I’ll help you get your frustrations out but I’m not your punching bag.” He abruptly turned and left her standing alone in the yard, properly scolded.

She sighed and moved toward the pile of weapons, reaching for one of the blunted swords. She didn’t want to admit it yet because she was still angry but she knew Lincoln was right. Damn him. She was retreating back into that defensive, unpredictable, scared young girl who first landed on Earth, needing to prove herself and her worth.

“Aai-yaaa!” Lincoln had set up wooden posts in their yard to use for sword practice and she began hacking away at one of them.

She could barely reach in front of her now and had to adjust her arms a bit higher over her growing girth. But she simply imagined herself as big, beefy Nyko, whose hands she had to tie behind his back with a tree branch because they were too far apart otherwise. The beginnings of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth at the memory. The physical exertion was working on distracting her from her ~~fear~~. _I am not afraid._

She didn’t stop until she was dripping with sweat and her arms were almost too weak to lift the sword any longer. Indra had taught her to learn when to stop, before she passed the point of no return and became useless. That point was only to be crossed in real battle. She peeled off her shirt as she headed to the outdoor water pump, giving a quick rub hello to Rory.

“I still have to be able to protect you,” she whispered, feeling the tears smother the last of her rage. She needed to apologize to Lincoln.

After washing up, she headed to the ~~shed~~ barn, looking for him. He had been busy lately cleaning the space out and was probably somewhere in the midst of clutter. She went to the far end where the greatest heap of junk was accumulated; dusty, rotted, broken debris brought in from all over the desolate area. One or both of the Rockfields must have been collectors of pre-war trash.

“Lincoln? Are you in here?”

No response except for the scurries and squeaks of rodents. Maybe they really could use a cat. She turned to leave, her pant leg snagging on a broken nail sticking out from a broken chair. Off-balance, she stumbled, her palm bracing herself on the wall in front of her. She freed her pant leg and straightened up, feeling a tug in her left hand, unable to move it. A rusted nail tip glistening red projected out from the back of her hand, pinning it in place to the wall.

Almost clinically, she watched a trickle of blood seep from where her hand was impaled on the nail. She had forgotten what it was like to bleed. She moved her fingertips. The nerves weren’t damaged but she was numb to the pain, maybe from exhaustion or shock, maybe from ennui.

She grasped her left wrist with her other hand to keep it steady as she slowly raised it up and off the nail, her own blood lubricating the metal, making it almost too easy. She lifted her hand above her heart, dangling it in front of her as the bright red rivulets coursed down her forearm, a déjà vu of when she had first saved Lincoln’s life before she had even known his name.

Still no pain. Where was the pain? She crumpled to her knees, her arms out in front of her over her rounded belly. The blood began to drip down her arm and off her elbow, splashing onto the ground. Little droplets of blood coalesced and cohered to each other, rolling into balls of bright red before losing momentum as they absorbed into the dirt below. The moistened soil turned a particular shade of umber she had seen too many times before as she walked through fields of dead, her boots coated in the coppery, claylike substance. Blood and tears and rain and dirt.

The sob took her by surprise. Another one quickly followed. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears even as as yet another sob escaped. Then another sob and more tears until she couldn’t stop. She wailed pathetically, immobilized with overwhelming hopelessness and helplessness. Minutes, hours, maybe days might have passed before Lincoln found her.

“OCTAVIA!” He shouted so loudly it startled her from her fugue.

In a daze, she watched as he tore his shirt off and wrapped it around her hand. He slid his arms beneath her and lifted her up. She turned her face into his bare chest, whimpering from the pain in her heart and not her hand. He carried her into the kitchen and set her down on a chair.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, cupping her face and staring hard into her eyes. “How long ago did this happen?”

She shook her head away from his hold, whining as her gaze fell on his bloodied shirt wrapped around her hand. “I’m so sorry, Lincoln.”

His mouth flattened into a frown but he didn’t say anything. Once he was satisfied she wasn’t injured anywhere else, he straightened up and turned away from her as he started gathering supplies in order to treat her wound. He was furious with her.

“I was looking for you in the barn.”

He remained silent, his back to her as he added ingredients into a bowl.

“I stumbled and . . . it was an accident.”

He started grinding up the ingredients with a pestle, his actions more forceful than necessary.

“Say something.”

He slammed the bowl onto the counter and turned, shooting her a lethal glare that had her withering in contrition. She deserved whatever was coming.

The tea kettle whistled, distracting his attention. She didn’t try talking to him again and he remained silent as he cleaned and treated her wound before forcing her to drink a vile concoction to prevent infection. He sat down in the chair next to her and he placed a poultice on the entrance and exit wounds, covering it with a soft cloth.

As he wrapped her hand in a bandage, her eyes were drawn to the scar on the back of his right hand, a permanent reminder that her brother had given Lincoln a matching hole all those months ago.

“Lincoln?” Her other hand went up to his swollen cheek in apology.

“I can’t . . . .” He turned his head away from her touch. “This is not okay, Octavia. If you don’t want to stay, then we’ll leave. Today. Right now.”

“But you were right.” She tried not to cry again. He was still so mad at her. “There’s nowhere else to go.”

“So, you just give up?”

“What’s the use? No matter where we go, it’s the same thing.” Her bottom lip quivered as the tears returned. She was a terrible, selfish person. Lincoln was too good to have to put up with her. It wasn’t fair to him. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Stop it, Octavia,” he said her name firmly, in a no-nonsense tone she imagined he might one day use on Rory. “You don’t get to give up. We have a _fyucha_ to care for now.”

He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him, his gaze reflecting his faith and trust in her. He was the first person who saw _her_ and not the illegal second child or the Grounder pounder. He was the first person who believed in her on her own merit.

“You never let me give up and I’m not letting you give up,” he whispered. “ _Ste yuj_ because you _are_ strong.”

“ _Ai hod yu in_ , Lincoln.”

“Come here.” He accepted her words of love for the apology they were and pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap. He tucked her head under his chin, one hand coming to rest on her belly over their _fyucha_.

She shrank into him as she allowed herself to silently weep. He ran his fingers through her hair and down her back, calming her and comforting her. On the Ark after inspections, it had been Bellamy or her mother who soothed her fears and offered her solace. Now, it was her _houmon_ who picked her up when she was too weak and carried her when she was too afraid to move on.

“Do I need to worry?” he asked after her sobbing had slowed to an unsteady hiccup and an occasional sniffle. 

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. They had made a promise to each other they would never lie about this. There was no reason, not after all they had been through.

He hugged her tighter. “We’ll get through this together like everything else.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered, finally admitting out loud what Lincoln already knew. “I’m scared and angry and I’m tired of running and hiding.”

“It’s okay to be afraid.” His lips pressed into the top of her head. “You are still the bravest person I know, _ai sonraun_.”

“Promise me you won’t leave me.”

“Never.” He reassured her as his hand stroked lovingly over her belly. “ _Ogeda otaim_.”


	16. Find Hope Somewhere*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln worries over Octavia and smut happens.  
> NSFW

 

* * *

“How are you doing?” Lincoln asked as she cleaned off the last plate from dinner and set it to dry. He came up behind her and lifted her injured hand up to inspect it while his other hand slid under the edge of her shirt to rest on her naked belly.

“Better.” Two days later and her left hand still throbbed and ached but it was more of a constant annoyance than painful. Every now and again, she would try to make a fist, forcing and flexing her fingers until the pain came back, waking her up, reminding her. Lincoln was right; she didn’t let him be selfish and she certainly didn’t get to be selfish anymore, either. Rory was depending on them.

“You know I don’t mean just that.” He licked the back of her neck before biting lightly, his scraping teeth sending shivers down her spine. “You need to be more careful, not just for yourself or for me, but for _oso fyucha_.”

“I’m working on it. Practicing and pretending.” Three months of peace at Arkadia. Two months of peace here. That’s what she was waiting for and where her dread stemmed from: not enough peacetime had passed yet. Two days ago, she had been panicking and paranoid. The unease was still there but Lincoln had begun to develop backup plans and contingencies for worst case scenarios, easing her immediate fear.

In comparison to what they had gone up against in the past, the Pensmore threat was minimal but it did little to alleviate his worries. Her breakdown had affected Lincoln more severely than her, his nightmares returning with a vengeance and his attention to her bordering on Bellamy levels of over-protection.

“What if you had been hurt worse?” He tightened his arms around her as he rested his chin on her shoulder and gently began to sway; rocking her back and forth in a lulling slow-dance, whether to soothe him or her, it didn’t matter. “What if I hadn’t found you when I did?” His voice still trembled with the terror from that day.

“But you _did_ find me, Lincoln.” She turned her head, brushing her nose against his before lifting her lips to his. “You always find me and save me. That’s what we do. We save each other.”

“That’s what has me scared the most.” He fell silent again as he rubbed his cheek against hers affectionately, seeking contact with her as he opened up to her about his fears. “If something happened to you, I won’t be able to follow anymore.”

“I know, _ai niron_.” She had been worrying about that, too; either one of them having to live without the other. When he almost died from the Red, she had made the decision to follow him even unto death, knowing he would do the same for her. But now, they had to revise that vow for as long as Rory needed one of them.

“I lost everything. Everyone. The _Skaikru_ took it all and destroyed it.” He kissed her cheek, pausing a moment as he tried to find words he rarely used, exposing the rawest part of his grief. “Except you; I still have you. And I can’t lose you. You understand that, right? Nothing can happen to either of us.”

“ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.” She said it this time with proper veneration, reminding him of their first promise to each other and reassuring him that she was truly doing better.

“You gave us a future _._ ” His hand moved across her belly. " _Oso fyucha_. We have to find hope somewhere."

She never knew what hope was until she met him. She turned her head toward him, her lips searching out his again. “ _Ai hod yu in,_ Lincoln.” Without him she wouldn’t have survived this long. Without him, she wouldn’t have _wanted_ to survive this long. He was her light to get her through the darkness of this miserable existence.

His hand on her belly went from a gentle caress into a sensual massage before veering south and slipping under her waistband. She sucked in her breath as his fingertips skimmed over her mound before digging between her nether lips in search of her clit as he rocked his arousal against her backside.

She moaned, her hands fumbling with the waistband on her pants, shoving them along with her panties down her hips to pool around her ankles. His finger found her clit and tapped out his special rhythm that made her fall to pieces in his hand.

“Please, Lincoln.” She begged him, knowing he would prolong it otherwise. “Fuck me.” She missed his aggression and his roughness. Before finding out she was pregnant, before losing everything and everyone, there had been a desperation and a frenzy to their love making. Now, he treated her as something fragile and precious. She wanted it hard, fast, and nasty.

He grunted in response, his hand delving further between her legs as his fingers traced over her slit. She widened her stance, her body weeping from his touch. She leaned forward, bracing herself on the counter in front of her with her good hand. Then she felt him, his bare cock pressing into her buttocks as his fingers opened her lips wide to accept him.

“Yes!” Her body sobbed and dripped around the tip of his rod as he pushed into her.

He moaned heavily into her ear, folding himself around her, her back flush to his chest, her bandaged hand holding his head against hers. He held onto her hips as he pounded into her, nibbling and biting at her earlobe and whispering naughty words in _Trigedasleng_ about how good her pussy felt. She whimpered and quaked around him, her desire trickling down the inside of her thigh as the pressure grew.

“Come for me, _Okteivia_.” He drawled out her name, raspy and guttural and sending vibrations from her ear to her clit as he thrust into her from behind. His fingers moved in between her legs, finding her nub again.

“Oh!” She cried out, her muscles gripping him tight, squeezing him and milking him as she shattered. Her head fell forward, her eyes closed, her body shaking. “Aah!”

He continued slamming into her relentlessly, forcing her harder and higher until she was begging and sobbing for him to finish it. She screamed his name as he set her free, soaring through the heavens in ecstasy. Her muscles spasmed and convulsed around him, sucking at him as he groaned and stiffened behind her.

“Unh!” He cried out, pinning her down on his shaft and holding her in place, his liquid heat filling her.

They remained joined together, breathing heavy, his cock still inside her, her walls flexing and contracting around him. He ran his hand along her backside before spanking it playfully. Her muscles clenched around him in response and he moaned, his hips jerking forward, ramming himself deeper into her. Her mouth opened on a gasp, her body eager for more.

Instead, he sighed and pulled out of her, moving away from her. He tugged his pants back up, fastening them enough so they wouldn’t fall off until he could remove his shoes. They were still mostly clothed. She couldn’t remember the last time they had sex still clothed. It had to have been at least since Arkadia.

“How are you doing?” she asked him, not wanting to remember Arkadia.

He smiled at her, that tender smile he reserved only for her and their _fyucha_. “Better.” He kissed her again before lifting her off her feet and carrying her into the other room. “Upstairs or down?”

“Down,” she replied.

He set her on the furs in front of the fireplace and kneeled before her. He removed her boots and her pants from around her ankles while she took off her shirt.

“Your turn.” She grinned at him. “We’re just getting started.”


	17. I'm Not Going Anywhere*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from last chapter. Pure fluff and smut.  
> NSFW

* * *

They were sprawled out on the furs in front of the fireplace.  She and Lincoln had long ago stashed a pile of blankets and pillows in one of the trunks they kept downstairs just for such nights. He passed her his water flask and she drank greedily from it, not realizing how thirsty she was after their evening’s activities.

It was too much effort for her to move so Lincoln was the one to get up and put more wood on the fire to last them through the rest of the night. Naked. She stared at his chiseled frame, his muscles so perfectly defined, his body so perfectly formed. She knew every story behind every kill mark and scar; every slice from a sword, every stab from a dagger, every time an arrowhead pierced through his armor. The faint ones were from childhood injuries and falls. The most recent ones, the vast majority from the last nine months, however, were because of her. He had been a battle-hardened warrior but that still wasn’t enough to protect him from her.

He turned, catching her ogling him and winked suggestively back. She tossed back the blanket covering her and he moved to lie down next to her again, one hand grabbing her bottom and pulling her closer to him.

“Does it bother you that I no longer look the same?” she asked, insecure with the changes that had occurred over these last few months. Maria had told her it was normal and to love every extra bit of fat and every new stretch mark because her body was doing something incredible. It sometimes still wasn’t enough to drown out Abby’s warnings about how she wasn’t built for childbearing.

“No,” he said, winking at her. “You’re even sexier now.”

She giggled. “How? I’ve got belly full of baby inside me.”

“ _Our_ baby.” He kissed her forehead. “ _Nomon_ are cherished by _Trikru_.” He kissed her nose. “I cherish you, Octavia, _ai niron, ai houmon , ai sonraun_.” He kissed her lips.

His hand moved across her belly, his fingers finding the dark, red lines and gliding over them, his touch light and stroking.

“Maria calls them ‘badges of honor.’” She said it as much for his benefit as for hers.

Lincoln nodded in approval. “Do my scars bother you?” he asked her sincerely.

She shook her head. “I find them beautif– oh! I see what you did there.” She giggled again.

He smiled back. “ _Ai hod yu in_ , Octavia.”

He captured her lips in his again, his hand on her buttocks tugging her closer as she lifted her thigh over his hip, opening herself to him. His fingers found her, wriggling and teasing before thrusting inside. He sat up and nudged her onto her back, his hand continuing to plunder her folds as she opened her legs to him, bending them at the knees. He moved between her legs, moaning in enthrallment as he watched his fingers pumping in and out of her. His eyes fell closed as he lowered his head to the top of her mound, his mouth opening wide and his tongue delving deep.

She sobbed out her pleasure as her hands grasped futilely at the furs beneath her. The world spun and twirled, narrowing down to his tongue flickering and humming at her clit as his fingers raked across her front wall, finding that hidden spot. Her back arched, her belly lifting high as her pelvis bucked into his mouth. She babbled affirmations of love to him incoherently, her body shuddering and weeping, her limbs trembling as her desire consumed her.

His fingers stroked a few more times, easing her back down from her high before he removed them. He lifted up his head, resting his chin on her belly, his lips shiny and puffy from kissing her between her thighs.

" _Yu ait?_ "

She smiled blissfully, nodding.

He sat up between her legs and took hold of her wrists, pulling her onto his lap so she straddled him. His arousal poked hard on the underside of her belly as he adjusted her legs, lifting her closer until his cock was flush against her nether lips.

His hand moved along her belly, always loving and mindful of their _fyucha_ , before dipping below, opening her lips for his rod to slip inside her. He groaned as he entered her, filling her. He brought her closer to him, his mouth falling on her neck, on that sensitive spot where her tattoo began.

She rocked her hips, setting the pace for them as he trailed kisses along her collarbone, sucking and biting at just the right points. The fire crackled and burned behind them, lighting the room aglow in amber and gold and slowing everything down until they were floating together, their bodies in sync, their souls vibrating in harmony.

“Ah!” She gasped, rolling her hips forward as his mouth suckled upon her breast. “Please!” She begged.

He took hold of the rhythm, driving into her deeper and faster as his lips nibbled and nipped their way up her neck. She panted, whining as the constant build-up became intolerably magnificent. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her at his mercy as he pounded into her harder, each thrust sending her closer until . . . until . . . unt . . . .

She screamed his name, exploding and dissolving around him, her head falling back as her limbs twitched and clenched in ecstasy. He bit down on her shoulder, letting out a whimper of his own as he stiffened, bursting inside her, their worlds instantaneously colliding and uniting.

She clung to him, her head resting on his, his mouth still open against her shoulder, his breath warm and comforting on her sticky skin. He kissed her shoulder before unhooking her legs from behind him and collapsing back onto the furs with an exhausted exhale. She remained seated on top of him; her curls nestled around his cock. It almost made her want to go another round. Almost. Being eight months pregnant, she unfortunately no longer had as much stamina and needed naps in between.

She begrudgingly slid off him and tucked herself next to him, resting her head on his chest with her ever-growing belly pressing into the curve of his side. _Ba-bump_ , _ba-bump_. There was his heart, beneath her ear; strong and steady. He was her everything. Her nose burrowed into his chest, between the two dagger-shaped tattoos, inhaling his scent and breathing him in. The comforting smell of _houm_.

She lifted her head up, staring at him intently. “I can’t lose you, too.” It had been Lincoln worrying over her earlier so it was only fair it was her turn now. He was all she had.

“I'm not going anywhere.” He smiled as he gazed adoringly back at her, his hand moving up to smooth tendrils of hair away from her face. “We’re in this together.”

“ _Ogeda otaim_.” She repeated what he promised earlier. She struggled to lean up to kiss him, her belly proving more of a hindrance the larger she got. He met her halfway with a smile and a peck.

She tucked her head back onto his shoulder as he tightened his arm around her, his hand coming to rest on her belly, over Rory.

“ _Ai seingeda_ ,” he whispered possessively, his voice drowsy with sleep.

My family.


	18. One of Our Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria the midwife comes to visit. Pure fluff.

* * *

Octavia was ~~terrified~~ anxious about having her first guest, ever. If that weren’t enough, the guest was Maria, visiting today with an assistant midwife to go over and finalize their birth plan. She was a fidgety wreck and of little use to Lincoln, who had spent most of yesterday clearing the unmarked road from their cabin to the main highway so the car could drive all the way through to the house. Tomorrow, he would replace their temporary blockades, securing the long stretch of road from larger vehicles once more.

Today, he had taken over the kitchen to make a delectable meal for their guests. She was proud of his cooking, mainly because she was so horrible at it and was thankful one of them knew what they were doing in a kitchen. No matter how often he patiently tried to teach her, she still only knew how to cook meat long enough over an open fire so as not to get sick.

“What grows together goes together,” he recited to her as he tossed a sprig of...something green and leafy into the big, metal stew pot hanging over the fireplace that separated the kitchen from the living area.

Every now and again, he would taste the stew, sprinkle in some more herbs (or spices?) and taste again before offering her a spoonful. Each time, it miraculously tasted better than the time before. She dipped her spoon into the pot for another taste, snagging a chunk of deliciously tender rabbit meat, and brought it up toward her mouth. Lincoln snatched hold of her wrist tightly, the spoon hovering in the air so close to her lips that if she leaned forward just a bit she could eat it.

“Octavia . . . .” His voice lowered menacingly, having already warned her the last three times to stop sneaking extra bites.

He pried the spoon from her fingers and brought it to his mouth, unappreciatively eating her carefully selected morsel of rabbit. She pouted.

“Now, go.” He released her wrist and pointed with the spoon at the back door. “Go pick berries or something. I don’t know, just get out of here.” He shoved her toward the doorway and smacked her in the bum with a towel when she took too long moving.

She muttered and grumbled as she sulked her way outside before wandering aimlessly and ending up in a clearing of wildflowers she and Lincoln often made love in. It was too beautiful a day to be grumpy. They were preparing for Rory’s birth! She spun around, enthralled by the green swirls of the treetops above as she inhaled the fresh morning air, the birds serenading her.

Maria said last week at dinner that they would soon be holding their baby in their arms but it seemed like such a distant event, something that would happen someday in the future. Now, however, it was closer than ever before and she was too overstimulated with anticipation. She grimaced as she realized Lincoln wasn’t wrong to kick her out of the kitchen for being a nuisance.

There was a lone, giant boulder in the center of the field and she took a seat in the shade of it, folding her legs beneath her.

“ _Ai fyucha_ ,” she whispered, running her hands over her belly. “Your _nontu_ and I can’t wait to see you.”

All her life, the only family she knew had been Bellamy and her mother and now they were both gone forever. She would have never been able to imagine life without them; she wouldn’t have even known how to live without them. It was because of Lincoln she was alive now. It was because of him she learned how to survive without her mother and brother providing for her and protecting her. It was because of him she had a reason to live, _two_ reasons to live, and a family to call her own.

* * *

Lincoln eventually found her and woke her up. She wasn’t surprised she fell asleep; she did that a lot lately.

“Maria’s due to arrive soon,” he said as he helped her to her feet and they started walking back to the house.

He passed her his water flask and she drank heavily from it in preparation. Maria always had her pee in a cup to check her protein and sugar levels, especially with her history of malnutrition. She stopped at the outdoor water pump while he continued on into the cabin (probably to check on his precious stew).

She quickly washed up, barely finishing before she heard Lincoln whistling from the front yard that Maria had arrived. She joined him at his side and he placed his arm around her shoulders as the car pulled to a stop in front of them. Their very first guests! Octavia hugged her belly, silently sharing her enthusiasm with Rory.

Maria got out first from the passenger side, green-faced and clutching her pregnant belly. “I hate car rides,” she whispered to Octavia as she momentarily leaned against the side of the car, regaining her composure.

“Hi, I’m Polly.” A blonde woman not much older than Octavia approached them from the driver’s side with a smile on her face. “You must be the Woods.” She reached out her hand to Octavia.

It was an odd local affliction, referring to everyone by last names. Octavia remembered what Lincoln had first told her about this place: small family communities. Family names were important here because family was important here. When they were first asked for their last name, Lincoln had looked to her in uncertainty. She wasn’t going to use Blake, never again, and not just because of fear that Bellamy might find her. She figured Woods must be a common enough last name that it wouldn’t be easy to trace back to them but would still allow them to honor the _Trigedakru_ in a small way.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Octavia took Polly’s hand, shaking it. “Maria’s spoken very highly of you.”

Polly smiled and blushed. “I learned from the best.”

“Where’s Rosie?” Octavia asked Maria as Lincoln and Polly exchanged pleasantries.

“Rosie is with Luke today,” Maria replied. “The Milners have a sick colt he needs to check on.” Luke was the local veterinarian and Rosie had yet to decide whether to follow in her mother’s or father’s careers or forge her own path. “If you two don’t mind waiting a while for that horse, once he’s old enough, the Milners might trade you for him.”

Lincoln nodded, his eyes coming alive at all the possibilities and potentials this horse might provide for them.

“In the meantime, you might want to look at getting some chickens to start with and maybe a goat,” Maria said as she took a box out from the backseat of the car.

The little mewling sounds coming from it had Octavia’s nipples aching in response. The kitten Rosie was trying to foist on them. She peeked into the box, blinking a couple of times, uncertain of what she was seeing. There were not one but two kittens inside, one black and white and the other white and black. Opposites, mirrors like Octavia and Lincoln. Siblings like Octavia and Bellamy.

“These are the last two left,” Maria said. “I figured you could get to know them and pick one.”

There was no way Lincoln would be able to pick one. Octavia was all too familiar with his soft spot for animals. Since he was a boy, he had taken care of the injured creatures he encountered (and the occasional Sky Person). Forcing him to make such a decision seemed cruel.

“We’ll take them both,” she said, surprised at how quickly she caved in on a discussion that hadn’t happened. She glanced at Lincoln to see him smiling in bewilderment and knew she had made the right choice.

“Rosie will be so thrilled. She didn’t want to split these two up, which is why they’re the last to go. She was hoping to find a home for them together but was settled with you two taking one of them.”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed as she realized she’d been bested by a cunning little twelve-year-old.

“Luke already fixed them for you so you don’t have to worry about them multiplying,” Maria said to Lincoln as he took the box from her. “I’ve got instructions on what to feed them but it’s basically just raw meat.”

“Easy enough,” Lincoln replied as he looked inside the box at the squirming fur balls that were now their official responsibility because of Octavia’s impetuousness.

“We also brought this for you,” Polly said as she handed Octavia a two-way radio. “The Rockfields used to have one when they lived out here so you should already have reception. There are fire watch points that have been turned into signal towers all throughout the area.” Polly glanced over at Lincoln, who was still distracted with the kittens. “If you’re having trouble with the signal, tell Lincoln to climb onto the roof.”

Octavia nodded except because it was Lincoln, she mentally substituted “roof” for “highest tree” in Polly’s instructions.

“Polly is in charge of the town switchboard,” Maria explained. “You contact her and she contacts whoever you need.”

Octavia looked at the metal box in her hands. They could instantaneously communicate with others in the area. She pretended to inspect the radio, keeping her head down-turned as tears filled her eyes. It started with the kitten that turned into two and then there was a potential horse and maybe a goat but definitely chickens and now Polly was talking to Lincoln about solar panels and generators and this was all long-term planning when just a few days ago she had wanted to pack their bags and start running again.

“We’re about cooperation around here,” Polly was telling Lincoln. “As long as you contribute….”

That seemed to be the town’s motto and one that made Octavia want to cry every time she heard it. These people considered her and Lincoln’s presence as a contribution to their community. They belonged somewhere. The two misfits who didn’t ever truly belong with either _Skaikru_ or _Trikru_ were finally fitting in.


	19. A Plan Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Polly visit, Part 2 and the kittens get names.

 

* * *

Octavia led Maria and Polly into her _houm_ , proud to show off their months of hard work. The living area was now inviting and cozy.  Lincoln had added another chair and a bench for company and she sewed cushions stuffed with quail and duck feathers. Soon, they would have chickens. Over the last few days, they thoroughly cleaned the cabin from top to bottom as thoroughly as they had done when they first moved in. Nesting, that’s what Maria called it.

Lincoln’s simmering stew filled the cabin with a savory aroma that made Octavia’s stomach growl, reminding her she had not eaten in a few hours. She was used to eating a lot of smaller meals throughout the day because it helped stave off heartburn.

“Would you like something to eat?” Lincoln asked Maria and Polly as he set the box of kittens down next to Octavia’s rocking chair. “Octavia’s about ready to pass out from hunger if I don’t feed her soon.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. He was in much too good a mood.

“Thank you, Lincoln,” Maria said, rubbing her own pregnant belly. “That would be wonderful.”

“We brought some fresh bread from Julia and a few other things that might come in handy.” Polly handed Lincoln a box she had carried in.

“Thank you,” Lincoln replied. “Octavia will show you the rest of the place while I go warm up the bread.” He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Octavia alone with Maria and Polly.

“Do you want to see the loft?” Octavia asked as her nervousness returned in Lincoln’s absence.

“That would be wonderful,” Polly said with a grin. “It will give us an idea of what we’ll be working with.”

“Lincoln built these.” Octavia bragged as she led them up the stairs. She was winded by the time she got to the top, huffing as she leaned on Lincoln’s newly built railing along the open side of the loft.

Maria inspected her with a careful eye. “Baby’s starting to press on your lungs. Another few weeks.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to last another few weeks.” She was unable to keep the smile off her face as she gave a gentle pat to Rory.

“Do you sleep here every night?” Polly asked.

“Most nights,” she replied. “Sometimes we sleep downstairs in front of the fire or we have a spot outside.”

Maria and Polly continued looking around as Octavia fretted and fidgeted. Lincoln had neatly hung all their clothes on hooks that morning and had straightened out the bed, piling the pillows on one end, which she now fluffed and rearranged to give her something to do. The skylight was open, the fresh breeze and sunlight streaming through, reminding her of the hole in the ceiling of Lincoln’s cave where they used to watch the moon at night.

Polly ran her finger along the spines of the books arranged on Lincoln’s bookshelf.  Octavia had installed the shelf herself a couple of weeks ago as a surprise for him. He had cried when he saw his journals on display and had made love to her so sweetly it left her in tears with him. At the end of the shelf, there was a newly placed jar of fresh wildflowers. Octavia plucked one out and brought it to her nose, smiling at Lincoln’s thoughtfulness.

“Are those from Lincoln?” Polly asked.

Octavia nodded. “He’s always trying to find new flowers to surprise me.” They might have stopped traveling for now, but the Earth was so vast that even their tiny corner had more to explore and something new to discover every day. He brought her flowers as a way of giving her more of a world she had only ever dreamed of on the Ark.

By the time they got back downstairs, Lincoln had already blocked off the area under the loft for the kittens to frolic in so they were no longer confined to the box.  He had told her a few days ago he was contemplating turning the area into a separate room, maybe eventually making it their bedroom and giving the children the loft. Children, as in plural. They hadn’t even had the first one yet and they were already planning for more, planning for a future, multiple _fyuchas_.

“Just a few more minutes until the bread is done warming and then we can eat,” Lincoln said as he entered the living area. His eyes immediately sought out Octavia’s but then they dropped down. He was staring at her breasts. He rarely stared at her breasts, usually only when he wanted to put his hands or his mouth on them. She looked down at herself to see two very symmetrical wet circles on her shirt over her nipples.

“Oh!” Octavia gasped in curious surprise. “That’s never happened to me before.”

Polly laughed good-naturedly. “That’s why I have these.” She reached in the neckline of her shirt and removed a round, cushioned disk. “Just wait until you start breastfeeding. They’ll really come in handy then.” Polly had two boys of her own, the youngest still less than a year old.

“It’s because kittens sound like babies,” Maria explained. “Have you thought up any names for them yet?”

“Black Cat,” Lincoln said, pointing to the black and white male, “and White Cat.” He pointed to the white and black female.

Octavia rolled her eyes and shook her head. Lincoln’s suggestion for naming Helios had been “Brown Horse.” There was no way he was naming these two creatures. “I was thinking Apollo and Artemis since they’re siblings.”

“Greek mythology,” Maria said. Even out here, the stories of Greek gods and goddesses continued to survive the passages of time and apocalypses. “I like it.”

Lincoln ushered them into the kitchen, his hand lingering on the small of Octavia’s back as she walked past before he discreetly slid it over her bottom in a teasing caress. She took her seat on one side of the table while Maria and Polly sat on the other side.

As Lincoln dished up the stew, he began absentmindedly humming a familiar lullaby. It was one she sang to him when he was going through the Red withdrawals, the same one her mother used to sing to her before bed and now the one they would both soon be singing to Rory.

She smiled at him as he placed a bowl of stew in front of her and offered her a spoon. She reached for the spoon but he held it away from her, puckering his lips. She smirked as she gave him a kiss and he gave her the spoon. Without thinking, she grasped it in her left hand, wincing at the slight pull from her week-old wound.

“You’ve injured your hand.” Maria’s sharp eyes noticed. “Do you want me to take a look at it after dinner?”

“Sure,” Lincoln said, taking his seat next to her.

“That’s all right,” Octavia replied, frowning at Lincoln. He was forgetting she had _Skaikru_ genes and Maria might become suspicious. “It’s mostly healed. Lincoln took care of it.”

“Do you know a lot about medicine, Lincoln?” Polly asked.

“Some. My best friend was a healer . . . a doctor.” His mood grew somber and Octavia rested her hand on his knee in solace.

“How about birthing babies?” Polly asked, grinning as she tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, I’ve seen a few births,” he replied, a hint of a smile returning. All _Trikru_ witnessed birth and life just as they would one day witness death. Whenever Abby’s fear-inducing words started haunting her, Octavia would ask him to share with her those birth stories, just as she had once loved hearing Bellamy tell her about her own birth.

“This is delicious!” Maria exclaimed as she took her first bite.

Lincoln’s teeth flashed into a rare, full smile. “Thank you. It’s been stewing since yesterday.”

“What about you, Octavia? Do you cook?” Polly asked her.

She laughed. “I’m not very good at it. Lincoln’s been trying to teach me, though.”

“Well, in that case,” Maria said, “I should also be complimenting Lincoln on keeping you so well-fed.”

Octavia smiled uneasily. Her previous chronic malnutrition had been the biggest fear for them during her pregnancy. Maria’s now-weekly tests of her sugar and protein levels helped ease that concern but Octavia was still apprehensive each week until she got the results of those test and that’s when she would start to worry about the following week’s test. Octavia’s sudden anxiety did not go unnoticed by Maria’s keen eye.

“I’m here today to help prepare for the birth. Part of that preparation starts now.” Maria took a bite of soup before continuing on. “You two have a heavy energy you need to cleanse before Octavia goes into labor.”

Octavia sucked in her breath, her face flushing red with a combination of outrage and indignation. Lincoln’s hand made its way to the small of her back as he began massaging her, trying to distract and relax her until she could get her emotions under control.

“As I said before, I don’t need to know the details of what’s in your past. I just need you two to do whatever needs to be done to put your past behind you once and for all.” Maria took another couple of bites of stew. “Work it out, resolve it, cleanse it. Otherwise it will disrupt the positive energy flow of the birth. We need _good_ energy for the baby.”

Once again, tears drowned out all other emotions. She was going to cry in front of them. Her face grew unbearably hot. She needed to hold it together. Maria appeared to be done with her last bit of instructions and began chatting with Polly about the different flavors they tasted in the stew. Indra used to end conversations the same way. She looked desperately to Lincoln. She was losing it.

He caught her chin in his hand as he leaned toward her, kissing her on her lips. “ _Ai hod yu in, Niron_.” His lips fell on hers again, this time more forceful as his tongue dove recklessly into her mouth. He plundered her, holding her captive under his onslaught until she was kissing him back. And that’s when he ended it.

She was startled by Maria and Polly both grinning at them, having forgotten them because of Lincoln’s kisses. Damn he was good.

“You have a happy union,” Maria said, still grinning. “That bodes well for healthy births.”

Octavia grinned back. The more odds in her favor, the better. Maria was right. She and Lincoln needed to have their reckoning and clear the energy for Rory’s birth. She was stubborn and determined and she was not going to be afraid of her past anymore. She had a _fyucha_ to prepare for now.


	20. The Thanks He Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff. Octavia appreciates Lincoln for everything he is.

 

* * *

Maria and Polly had stayed long into the afternoon, only leaving as dusk began to fall because they did not want to chance driving the obstacle course from their cabin back to the main highway in the dark. Lincoln’s happiness hadn’t dimmed, overjoyed at Octavia’s ready acceptance of _two_ cats. He sat on the floor in front of the fireplace as Artemis and Apollo climbed and tumbled all over him, a boyish grin on his face that she had never been privy to before. Her eyes remained fixed on him with a silly grin on her own face, loving him more and more every moment of every day.

“These mean you want to stay,” he said as he lifted the kittens up high. “You like it here.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he snickered back. When they first met, they spoke of their future in hours. At Arkadia, that timeline had started to stretch out into days and weeks before shrinking back down to minutes and seconds. It reminded her of that old story from before the bombs about the Doomsday Clock and how many seconds left until total annihilation; they got the time wrong and the world ended anyway. But sometime in the past three months, hers and Lincoln’s timeline had changed. They now talked in years.

She rocked up out of her chair. “I’m gonna get some more stew. Do you want any?” If she didn’t leave the room, she was going to jump on him and rip his clothes off. She needed to eat first before doing that.

He shook his head, his attention once again occupied by the furry little creatures as he talked to them about growing up to be great mice catchers. She rolled her eyes and headed into the kitchen and ladled a heaping serving of soup into a bowl. She eyed one of the kitchen chairs before deciding it was too much effort to stand up again if she sat down so she leaned her hip against the counter instead and began slurping up the stew, no longer worried about manners now that their guests were gone.

A peculiar tingling flowed through her body before culminating in a tightness around her abdomen. She carefully set the bowl on the counter and began massaging her belly.

“Do you feel that, Rory?”

The tingly waves traveled up and down her body, growing stronger every time it passed over her stomach. Maria had told her this might start happening soon and it was her body’s way of preparing for the task ahead.

“Lincoln!” She shouted for him.

He poked his head through the doorway a few moments later. “Yeah?”

“Come here.” She held out her hand to him and he took it. She placed it on her belly.

“It’s rock hard.” His brow furrowed in puzzlement.

She nodded, smiling. “What did Maria call them? Surges?”

“Something like that.” He smiled back in refrained excitement. “You don’t think . . . ?”

“No, not yet. Just the warm-up.” Already, the tingling sensation had dissipated and her muscles were starting to once again relax from their contracted state. “Contractions!” She remembered the technical name for it.

“Does it hurt?” His hands had taken over massaging her belly.

“Not really. A little achy. It kinda feels like a muscle spasm.”

He leaned down and kissed her tenderly.  “Do you need anything? Can I do anything for you?”

He was always so considerate and accommodating. She had felt guilty asking too much of him but Maria had revealed to her that afternoon it was because _he_ felt guilty for not being able to do more for her.

“Can you please make us some tea before bed?” she asked. Accepting his help when he offered was giving him another way to participate and including him in the pregnancy. It wasn’t a sign of weakness on her part, but a sign of their strength together as a unit.

“Okay.” He gave her another kiss and let her go so he could set up the kettle for the hot water. She picked up her half-finished bowl of stew and resumed eating.

“I’m gonna go put the cats away for the night,” he said once he had the kettle going. “Will you be okay?” She shook her head in disappointment at his over-protectiveness and he grinned sheepishly, realizing what he’d done. “Sorry, Angel. I can’t help it sometimes because I love you so much.”

She finished the last bite of stew and set the bowl down in the sink. “Come here.” He stepped back in front of her. She ran her hands up his chest before linking them behind his neck. “ _Ai hod yu in_ , Lincoln.” She tugged his head toward hers so she could kiss him. “Forever and always.”

* * *

She continued having surges over the next week, that’s what she preferred to call them. They felt like rolling waves, building higher with the tide before receding again. At yesterday’s check-up, Maria had told her what to look for in order to distinguish them from the real thing. There was no pattern or pain with these so Octavia treated it like both her body and mind were training for the upcoming birth.

“Was that another one?” Lincoln asked, watching her carefully. They were sitting in front of the fire; she was in her rocker while Lincoln reclined on the furs next to her with Artemis curled up on his lap. Apollo was asleep up in the rafters somewhere.

She nodded. It had been mild and short, so she was amazed he noticed. Then again, he had been overly attentive lately, taking Maria’s advice to heart that his task in the upcoming birth was to be there for her in whatever she needed. He took it too literally sometimes.

“Can you rub my back for me, please?” She asked as she set aside the blanket she was sewing and rocked forward in her chair to stand up.

Lincoln moved Artemis off his lap and reached up to her, tugging her down to sit between his legs. She leaned forward, moaning as he pressed the heel of his hand into her lower back, massaging the tightness out. He had such a talent with his hands, from drawing to woodworking to swordsmanship to lovemaking.

She relaxed back against him once his hands moved onto her stomach, kneading her swollen abdomen better than she was ever able to do. She closed her eyes, lulled by his warmth and the safety of his arms. They had been two broken souls whose pieces fit together, complimentary opposites in synchronicity, mirrors reflecting a shared compassion. He had given up everything to be with her while she had nothing to leave behind. He had lost everything that she had never gained.

The universe had brought them together, the girl who should have never been born into her world and the boy who had never fit into his; two people who only wanted peace. The hopes and dreams they whispered to each other late at night as they fell asleep were finally coming true. They had created a child together against impossible odds, a magical miracle of the cosmos, and they had found a place of peace and a community where they belonged.

She opened her eyes, turning her face up toward him. “ _Mochof_ , Lincoln.”

He leaned down and kissed her with a bemused smile on his face. “You’re welcome, but for what?”

“For existing.”


	21. How You Slay the Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly Angst. Octavia and Lincoln finally have their cleansing ceremony.

* * *

She purposefully slept in late, only getting up when the smell of fresh breakfast enticingly wafted up to the loft, and she begrudgingly set about getting ready for the day ahead, one she was not looking forward to. Maria had asked them at the last check-up how far along they were with “cleansing the negative energy,” to which they both bashfully admitted they hadn’t done it yet, using the new kittens as their scapegoat. That was two days ago and they had ran out of excuses. There was no more postponing it and although neither one wanted to tackle it, they both knew Maria was right: it was time to face their demons.

Lincoln had eaten long ago but he set a fresh plate of food before her as she sat down at the kitchen table. He kissed her on her cheek before moving behind her to brush and braid her hair for the day while she ate.

Every morning, he left her a little trinket with her breakfast. Sometimes it was something he found in the shed, sometimes it was an interesting plant or rock, sometimes it was something he made. As soon as she finished eating, she reached for today’s object, this one wrapped in burlap. A chunk of oak tumbled into her lap, a nostalgic memory from long ago carved into the wood.

Tears flooded Octavia’s eyes as her fingers traced the star-shaped petals of the flower he once used as a signal that it was safe for them to meet. The memories were forcing their way to the surface for both of them. She would ask him later to drill a hole so she could tie some leather through it and hang it in the kitchen window. For now, she tucked it into the front pocket of her dress, wanting to keep it close to her as a talisman for the difficult task ahead.

He finished with her hair and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Ready?” he asked.

“Let’s do this.”

They walked silently hand-in-hand toward their field of wildflowers, the path of the morning sun disrupted by the towering treetops surrounding them. If they were going to drag their nightmares into the light of day, it would be while they were in their safe place.

Lincoln spread out a blanket next to the boulder. He eventually wanted to dig out a hiding place beneath the boulder, somewhere they might escape to if there was danger approaching the cabin.

They sat down facing each other, their eyes closed, their knees touching, and their hands joined. Maria had said touch was important. She popped one eye open, unable to calm herself, her heart pattering too fast in her chest.

“This isn’t going to work.” She was almost nine months pregnant and sitting on the ground was not the most relaxing position. “I need you to hold me while we do this.” She climbed into his lap.

“Okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head.

“How do we start?”

“I don’t know. I guess just say out loud whatever we’re holding back?”

She focused on the tinkling sound of water flowing over rocks in one of the nearby streams that passed through their property. It reminded her of her mother’s jewelry box that plinked and twinked out a long-forgotten melody.

“I miss my mom.” She blurted out. “She wasn’t very nice or even around a lot of the time but she was the only mom I knew and I loved her.” She blew out a shaky breath, a tiny bit of the weight lifting off her weary heart.

“I miss my _nomon_ , too.” He rarely mentioned her; she had died when he was still young so he didn’t have many memories of her. “I miss the potential relationship we never got.”

She took the wooden _dei skaifaya_ out of her pocket, holding it out to him; it was not only a memory for them but also one of his only memories of Leanor, his mother. His fingertip skimmed delicately along the lines of the carving, hypnotically swirling around and around the petals.

“Does that help?” she asked. She wasn’t certain he knew it about himself but she learned early on that he got restless when his hands weren’t occupied.

“It’s soothing.” He cleared his throat and straightened up, adjusting her more securely on his lap. “Do you wanna go next?”

Not really, but she nodded anyway. “When I found out I was pregnant, Abby said if I didn’t miscarry or abort, one or both of us would die in childbirth.”

He snorted.

“You don’t believe her?” She leaned back to look at his face, not expecting this reaction from him.

“No and neither should you.”

“She saved your life.”

“ _You’ve_ saved my life. It’s a fairly common occurrence.”

She frowned at him; she didn’t like being reminded. “But you’re not mad at me for not telling you?”

“No, because Abby’s wrong. She might be able to save lives but she knows nothing about giving life. None of the _Skaikru_ do. They take life too easily to know how to create it.”

She had told Lincoln how pregnancy and childbirth on the Ark had become procedural. Everyone was allowed one shot at it so children were designed and engineered in test tubes before they were implanted in their mothers. At term, they were then surgically extracted and incubated. Octavia, of course, was the exception.

“Believe Maria instead,” he continued on. “She knows what she’s talking about.”

She smiled and settled back in against his chest. Lincoln’s easy dismissal chipped further away at the tiny shred of fear that constantly nagged at the back of her mind. She believed in Maria, she truly did, but she knew Abby’s warnings wouldn’t fully disappear until after Rory was born safely and they both survived.

“Your turn,” she said, giving him a soft poke in the chest. So far this had been easier than expected.

“I still get Red cravings sometimes,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

Whenever the cravings happened, he became distracted and irritable, zoning out and forgetting things, sometimes disappearing for a few hours. She kept her distance during those times, allowing him the space when he needed it. She took his hand in hers, the one that Bellamy stuck the spike through, and began massaging one of his pressure points with her thumb in the way he liked it.

“You already knew.” He guessed when she remained silent. She nodded and he sighed, almost as if he were disappointed in himself.

“At least they’re happening less frequently,” she said as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed the scar on the back of it before turning it over to kiss the matching scar on his palm.

“It doesn’t feel that way, sometimes.”

She tilted her head back, seeing only his tense jawline as he kept his face straight ahead. “Maybe not, but it’s true.” She kissed the underside of his chin, his unshaven skin prickling her lips before he turned his head, his lips briefly capturing hers.

“ _Mochof_ , Octavia.” He gave her another peck before saying, “Your turn.”

“You know I killed Gillmer and Denby before I found you.” Lincoln had given her the kill marks for them. “But I still regret not going back and killing Pike.”

“You would have ended up dead and I would have had to follow,” he said with practicality.

“But do you ever regret it? That we just left without looking back?”

“Do you?” he asked.

There wasn’t anything to go back to, only acquaintances she had known for a few months and a brother who had murdered . . . . No, she wasn’t ready yet for that. “Revenge would have been nice.”

His chest rumbled as he chuckled. “Cage’s death does help me sleep better at night.”

“Would you kill Pike if you had the chance?” she asked.

“Yes.” He said without hesitation. “I didn’t think so at the time, but Lexa was right to abandon the _Skaikru_ at the Mountain. I hope she wiped out most of them after we left.”

She nudged his chin to get him to look at her. “Me, too.” He gave a brief nod and she turned her gaze away, preparing to speak out loud her most horrid thought. “Sometimes, I hope that includes Bellamy.” He tensed beneath her. She didn’t want to ask it but she had to. “Can you tell me what happened?”

His arms tightened around her, his hands seeking out their _fyucha_ as his chin scraped along the top of her head. “Almost immediately after you left, Pike ordered all the sick _Trikru_ to be locked up. I tried to stop it and Bellamy arrested me, ‘for my own good’ he claimed.”

She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to hear it spoken out loud. “Was he there?” she heard herself ask from far away. She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the front of his shirt. Lincoln remained silent for too long but she didn’t move or speak again, frozen in dread.

He finally took a deep breath before answering. “I don’t know.” He exhaled heavily. “I had been tortured pretty badly by that point and I was in and out of consciousness even before they dragged me out of Arkadia.” His voice wavered. “There’s a lot I don’t remember and there’s a lot I’m thankful for not remembering.”

She nodded in understanding. There were certain memories of her own she’d rather remain locked under a distant, hazy fog than exposing them to sunlight. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“Forgiveness is about you moving on, not about excusing what someone else did.” He repeated Octavia’s own words back to her as his hand returned to rubbing her belly.

“But what if I can’t move on?” She sniffed. The tears were coming back. “He showed up at the cave when you were still unconscious. That’s why we had to leave.”

“How come you never said anything before?”

“Because I bashed his face in with my fists,” she said in defiance of that smidgen of shame that still lurked in the background of the memory. “I wasn’t going to let him know you were still alive.”

“Okay, so maybe you need to forgive yourself for that first before you can move on?” He always saw right through her.

She sighed heavily. “If I had listened to him, then maybe I would know whether or not he was a part of it. But, then again, maybe I would know he _was_ a part of that and instead of beating him up, I killed my own . . . .” She couldn’t say it out loud, sickened by the thought.

He hugged her closer. “We don’t have to figure it all out today, _ai sonraun_.”

“Kiss me, Lincoln. Just for a little bit until I feel better again.”

He smiled and dipped his head down, his mouth pressing against hers. “We can take as many breaks as we need.”

* * *

As the day faded into night, Lincoln started a fire in the circle of stones they had set up on a previous visit. He had wanted to hold a _faya_ ritual to burn away the negative energy. She held onto two stacks of paper, nothing more than scraps torn from the pages of the Rockfields’ extensive collection of old world technology manuals. In one stack, she wrote descriptions of those she wished to forget. In the other stack, Lincoln sketched images. There were no names. Names gave power. These were the stories that didn’t deserve to be remembered, the people who deserved to be forgotten.

“You ready?” she asked as she handed him his stack of scraps.

He nodded, kneeling down beside her. “ _Raun faya, oso wada kiln laudnes-de kom fotaim_.” He dropped a quickly done sketch of his father into the fire.

“In fire, we cleanse the pain of the past,” Octavia translated the words to _Gonasleng_ as she tossed her first scrap on the flames, an ark guard who used to make her mother cry. The paper singed around the edges and crinkled in on itself before dissipating into ash and smoke.

He repeated the words of the _faya_ ritual as he threw another bit of paper on the fire, this one a drawing of a syringe.

For the guard who caught her at the masquerade dance, she switched to _Trigedasleng_ , the words carrying a more meaningful significance in their native tongue.

Next was a drawing of a handgun and then it was the guard who convinced Bellamy to shoot Jaha. There was the guard who stole her rations when she was in solitary, the guard who shot Anya, the guard who floated her mom, the farm station guard who threw a rock at Lincoln . . . . There were a lot of _Skaikru_ guards who needed to burn.

Onto the fire went an image of the man in the vest, his wrist cut off and gushing blood, similar to a drawing Lincoln had done on a long ago night back in Arkadia when their nightmares had been of ghosts instead of living people. Then there was the man with too much hate who massacred a nation of people. They both had something to burn for him.

As each piece of paper burned, her tarnished soul shined a bit brighter, her tired heart growing lighter, her troubled mind becoming more at ease. Lincoln and Maria were right; it was okay to forget and move on. She had more important things now that needed her time and energy. She gave a gentle pat to Rory.

Lincoln passed her his last scrap of paper, a sketch of Bellamy. “You don’t have to burn it.”

She didn’t; she put it in her pocket instead.

They had decided to sleep outside tonight since it was most likely one of the last nights Octavia would be capable of doing so for a while. He made certain she was comfortably arranged in the nest of pillows and furs they brought before lying down next to her. She shifted into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as she gazed up at the stars.

“Can you please tell me the story about the _skaifaya niron_ again?” she asked, wanting to fall asleep with happy thoughts.

He pointed out a bright spot in the night sky and began whispering to her the tale of the _skaifaya_ that crossed a universe to find his lover again. She smiled, snuggling deeper into his side, her fingertip outlining the tattoos on his chest. They might not have had to cross a universe to be together but she did have to fall from space and and he had transcended death countless times. She was his angel from the heavens and he was her _skaifaya niron_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to name Lincoln's mom "Leanor" which is short for Eleanor Roosevelt, the nearest statue of a female to the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C..


	22. He Was Her Home*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia has a nightmare and Lincoln has a surprise. Angst and Fluff and Smut.

 

* * *

Finn shouted incoherently as he fired carelessly over the heads of the _Tondisi_ villagers trapped in the pen. She knew it was a nightmare. Finn was dead.

Someone took her hand. It was Artigas crouched down next to her and he looked so frightened, torn between trying to be brave and scared of being too reckless. She wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay but it wasn’t; Artigas is still going to die. She heard Lincoln’s voice from far away trying to wake her up. She turned to tell Artigas she would be right back but it wasn’t Artigas any longer.

It was Lincoln.

No, not Lincoln. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He knelt in the animal pen beside her, worried over her going into labor and ignoring Finn maniacally swinging the gun barrel over their heads threateningly. Blood soaked the front of her dress from between her legs. She was losing the baby.

“Octavia!” Lincoln shouted her name in stereo between the dream-world and reality.

Finn yelled back at Lincoln, his face contorting in rage, turning into Bellamy’s. “Get away from my sister!”

Bellamy began firing and Lincoln threw himself in front of her as she started screaming. Lincoln fell first, dead in a pool of rainwater and blood, his eyes sightless and soulless. The bullets kept coming. One punctured her shoulder, another into her belly, killing Rory immediately. A third ended up in her right thigh. She screamed and screamed and screamed, wanting it to end, needing to die, wondering why she still lived.

“Wake up, _ai sonraun_. Please wake up, _Okteivia_.”

Bellamy stopped firing long enough to climb into the pen and stand over her as she bled out into the mud. “We kill the wounded.” He pressed the barrel of the gun to her forehead.

“No!” She screamed, Bellamy’s hate-filled face permanently scarring on the insides of her eyelids as he fired. The smell of blood filled her nostrils, the taste of it on her tongue from where she bit her lips so tightly they bled. She choked on her tears, screaming and sobbing hysterically, unable to breathe.

“We’re right here. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“Rory!” She cried. “My baby.” She was wracked with sobs, hunched over and gagging as she tried to draw air into her lungs past the grief closed like a vise around her throat. Rory. She lost Rory.

“Breathe, Octavia, breathe.” He untangled one of her hands from where it clutched at the blankets, bringing it to her belly. “Rory’s right here. You’re okay.” He trapped her head against his chest, pressing her ear over his heart. “I’ve got you. We’re okay.”

“Why didn’t it work?” She was bawling and crying all over him, too overwhelmed to calm herself, her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. “The _faya_ ritual was supposed to work.”

He tilted her head up, his thumb wiping at her tears. “ _Ai strik branwada_.” He called her his little fool as he lowered his head to kiss her. “We’re still going to have nightmares just like I’ll still get Red cravings. It isn’t magical. It just makes it easier to keep moving on.”

“What if I’m too broken?” she blubbered out.

“Then we’ll be broken _ogeda_.” He kissed her once more before tucking her head back against his chest, his arms hugging her close.

“I love you,” She whispered into his chest. She should have known that he shared her same fear. He was better at hiding it, but he believed himself to be just as much a burden on her as she was on him.

“Do you want to get up for the day or do you wanna try going back to sleep?” His chest rumbled beneath her ear as he spoke.

“Sleep more,” she said, as if he even had to ask. “Sing to me, _ai niron_.”

He kissed the top of her head before starting a song in _Trigedasleng_. It was an old battle ballad about comrades in arms but instead of singing about taking lives, he changed the lyrics, asking her if she would make a life with him; _jus drein jus daun_ instead meaning them passing their blood, their genes, onto the next generation.

She snuggled closer, her hand meeting his on the swell of her stomach, their fingers lacing together. When they first met, there hadn’t been any time to do anything but love each other for the brief moments they were able to snatch out of the unforgiving environment. After the Mountain fell, they had both been strangers in Arkadia, trapped among people and in a culture they knew nothing about. They had three months to live together in a room smaller than the one she shared with her mother and brother while the entire time she had been scared she would turn into a _Skaikru_ and even more scared he might turn into one of them as well. They had three months to fall in love all over again for the first time before their fears came true as everything went to hell again.

They had managed to escape that endless cycle of unnecessary violence. They had found a place where they no longer feared living among strangers or threats from the outside. It was just Lincoln and Octavia, learning each other, living with each other, loving each other as they made a life together and started a family.

Her eyes fell closed as sleep beckoned. “ _Oso seingeda_ ,” she whispered.

* * *

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. There was nothing beside her plate this morning. Maybe he forgot. She began eating breakfast. No, Lincoln wasn’t forgetful with those types of things. He clung to routine like she once clung to her sword. Maybe it was too big to leave beside her plate and he would give it to her after breakfast.

After she finished eating, he made no movement either to retrieve her gift or take her to her gift; he simply picked up her empty plate and brought it to the sink to rinse. She remained seated at the table, sipping her tea slowly, lingering as long as possible. She wondered if he were waiting for her to say something.

She opened her mouth but quickly closed it with a huff because she didn’t know how to politely ask him for a daily present she had come to expect.

He turned from the sink at the noise, setting aside her newly cleaned plate. “Would you like some more tea?”

She nodded.

“I’m planning on doing some more work on the siding for the hen house today,” he said as he took the teapot from the counter and refilled her mug. “I want to have it done before Luke and Maria get here for your next check-up.” He sat down across from her with his own cup of tea.

“Did you bring me anything today?” She blurted out. She had never been patient or subtle.

He pretended to be hurt. “I thought I’d be your present for today.”

“I like the sound of that.” She rubbed her bare foot suggestively along his calf.

He chuckled, catching her foot under the table and giving it a quick massage before releasing it. She lifted up her other foot for him to massage.

“How soon until we can have chickens?” she asked.

“I want to wait until after Rory is born,” he replied. “Just so I’m not distracted. I’ve never raised chickens before.”

She smiled. Finally, there was something he’d never done before. “Luke said it’s not too hard. We can learn together.”

“I’d like that.” He dropped her foot and leaned back in his chair, his shirt stretching tight across his chest. “What are you planning on doing today?”

She licked her lips. Lincoln, at least once. “I’ve got that order to finish for the Hamiltons.” Word had gotten out they had a tailor in the area and now Octavia had a steady flow of business through Julia.

A familiar nervous, anxious feeling fluttered to life in her chest. This was normalcy, domesticity, daily routines. Happiness. They were _living_ life instead of fighting to survive. They had experienced a similar tranquility back at Arkadia, but even then, they knew it was fleeting and had decided to leave as soon as Lincoln’s kill order was lifted and Luna would be willing to take them in again.

She had told him about growing up on the Ark and how her mother had traded sexual favors to keep her safe while her brother practically raised her, about how she had never seen more than two people in her entire life until she was arrested the year before. He knew how the mythological heroes and heroines of old were her best friends growing up and how they helped her face fear head-on hidden in that tiny hole under the floor while the footsteps of villainous Ark guard pounded above. So, instead of her taking up the needle, Lincoln had continued her training, knowing how much it meant for her to be able to protect herself and how necessary it became the longer they stayed.

She didn’t trust the _Skaikru_ ; she was never really an Arker, she never belonged anywhere, and she had no real friends. She had been a girl without a place to call home. Until Lincoln; he was her home. It was no longer Bellamy or the _Trikru_ ; it had never been the _Skaikru_. It was Lincoln and Rory and any other children they might have. As he had sung to her last night, they were making a new life for their family here, one without a painful existence and an early death.

“Hey.” Lincoln caught her attention, noticing her withdrawing on him. “I’ve got another surprise for you.”

“Another surprise?” She blinked a couple of times, jarred from her pensive thoughts.

“Yeah.” He winked at her. “It was gonna be my original surprise for you until you got greedy.”

“Greedy, huh?” She grinned slyly back. She set aside her mug and stood up, moving to his side of the table.

She pushed him back down in the chair when he started to stand, lifting her skirt up high enough to straddle his thigh. She had ditched wearing underwear the last month around the same time she started wearing Mrs. Rockfield’s old tent-like dresses. Comfort was her main priority now with one very enjoyable side benefit.

“I’m still not finished with my first surprise,” she said as she pressed her bare clit against his knee, her skirt falling as her hands went to the front of his pants to unfasten them. He was already rock hard beneath her fingertips and she paused in her task to stroke his rigid member through his pants. He groaned.

She released him from his trousers, her hand wrapping around the base of his cock as his head fell back and his hips jerked up. His hands reached around her, grabbing her buttocks through her dress, riding her on his knee as he inched her hemline higher. Precum beaded up on his tip and she rubbed her thumb across it, bringing it to her lips, her tongue flickering out to taste.

“Octavia.” He gasped out her name. “Please!”

She braced herself on his chest as she climbed fully on top of him, her skirt bunched up in his fists as he held her sides, guiding her over his rod. She reached around her belly and between her legs, spreading her lips as she sank down onto him, moaning as he filled her.

His mouth found her neck, sucking at her collarbone as his hands slid around, gripping her buttocks again and he began rocking her hips in rhythm against his. She held onto his shoulders, her nails pulling at fabric of his shirt as his tongue swirled over her skin. Her rounded belly pressed hard against his muscled abdomen with each roll of her hips, the friction of their clothing tantalizing and stimulating. She rolled forward again, his cock dragging along her front wall as her clit mashed against him.

“Ahh!” She cried out, her head falling forward, her hair framing their faces.

He moved his mouth from her neck, his lips capturing hers as he drove his hips forward, his rod pounding deeper and deeper. His tongue swept into her mouth, entwining with hers, relentless in his need for her. She whimpered, her walls contracting around him.

She tore her mouth away from his. “Please, Lincoln!” It was her turn to beg.

He caught her gaze in his, his fingers digging into her hips as he pinned her to him, each thrust long and hard and deep. She began shaking, her toes curling, her legs trembling, her core throbbing around him. His mouth fell open on a silent groan, his eyes never leaving hers, his cock swollen inside her, waiting for her to burst around him. He gave one final thrust, his brow furrowing and his muscles clenching as his warmth filled her, sending her spiraling.

“Ooh!” She shattered on top of him, clinging to him as their energies pulsed and palpitated together in a kaleidoscope of ecstasy. This was their _houm_ , built out of love.


	23. You're Needed Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln makes friends when Maria comes to visit again and Octavia is done with being pregnant already. Double the fluff.

 

* * *

Another week and another check-up from Maria; this time Luke and Rosie came with her, Luke having agreed to assist Lincoln in building a hen house. Eventually, they would trade with another family in the area for chickens.

Luke greeted Lincoln with an outstretched hand and a smile. He was a big, burly bear of a man with a bushy beard that reached halfway down his chest and wild, curly hair usually half-trapped beneath a handkerchief or a hat; today it was secured in a ponytail. Lincoln shook his hand and clasped him on the back, hesitating slightly as he refrained from pulling Luke into a _Trikru_ hug reserved for friends. Octavia coughed as she tried to keep from smiling.

“Hey.” Lincoln waved in greeting at Rosie. “I’ve got a new project I started that I wanted to show you. Come on.” He led Rosie up to the cabin without waiting for the rest of them to follow.

Octavia shook her head with a smile. Lincoln’s other surprise for her yesterday had been his plan to start a mural on the wall in their downstairs room (which Maria called a _pallah_ ). He once drew explosions and shadow people on his cave walls, now he promised her he would draw the forest teeming with life and the stars in the sky at night.

“Julia and Rachel took the kids for the day,” Maria said as they walked toward the cabin at a slower pace. “They like to be reminded every now and again why they chose to not know the joys of parenthood.”

It sounded like an inside joke only other parents would get, a joke Octavia was not yet privy to understanding, but she chuckled politely anyway. She would ask Lincoln to explain it to her later; he had more experience dealing with kids than she did.

Gods! She was going to have to rely on his expertise so much more in the coming years. She briefly wondered if he had the patience to be her perpetual teacher for all their lives before shaking her head ruefully. Lincoln was the most patient person she had ever met and it was one of the many reasons why she would never let him go; she doubted she would ever find anyone else as tolerant of her inexperience as he was.

They entered the cabin to find Lincoln pointing and gesturing at the empty wall he chose to use as his canvas, explaining in detail the forest and sky scene he planned to paint. Rosie nodded appreciatively, offering suggestions here and there. Rosie and Lincoln were constantly swapping drawings with each other, encouraging and teaching each other their different techniques. They had a contrasting style; she had a technical eye for sharp lines and precise strokes while Lincoln’s drawings were softer and more dreamlike, but they had similar tastes that blended well together. Luke clapped a hand on Lincoln’s shoulder as he joined him and Rosie in admiring the potential of a blank wall.

“She gets it from Luke,” Maria explained. “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

Artemis woke from all the noise, opening one eye and seeing her previous owner wandering about her new home. She stretched her paws forward and raised her rear in the air in an inverse arch before she sauntered over to Rosie and circled her ankles in greeting. Rosie bent down and greeted the kitten with delight as Luke began discussing with Lincoln all the new work done on the cabin.

“It didn’t even look this good when the Rockfields lived here,” Luke said with approval. “You do amazing work.”

“Thank you,” Lincoln replied. “They left a lot of useful stuff behind.”

“Their kids moved to Pensmore about twenty years ago and they spent their last years collecting . . . .” Luke shrugged. “Well, everything you see in that barn.”

“Did you know the Rockfields well?” Octavia asked, curious about the people who previously lived in their cabin.

“Nah, their kids were older than me,” Luke replied. “I only came out here a handful of times over the years for their animals.”

“Speaking of animals,” Maria said, putting on her midwife persona. “How about you boys get started on that hen house while Rosie and I check on Octavia and the baby and get some lunch fixed up?”

Luke nodded and kissed his wife and daughter before turning to Lincoln. “You heard the boss,” he said cheerfully. “It’s time to get to work.”

* * *

“Three more weeks if our calculations are correct,” Maria said as she finished up the exam. They were alone in the loft, Rosie having followed after Apollo when he appeared from his latest hiding place.

Octavia groaned, hoping the calculations _weren’t_ correct. She had never had a regular period and her last one had been on the Ark a month before coming to Earth so they weren’t certain exactly when she might have conceived. Hers and Lincoln’s best guess was the time they had snuck out of Arkadia to his cave and purposefully ate some bad jobi nuts before fucking like crazy for two days straight.

Maria snickered at the grimace plastered across Octavia’s face. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and it will be sooner. The first ones usually are.”

“Maybe,” she replied doubtfully.

“You doing all right?” Maria placed her hand on the back of Octavia’s. “Yours and Lincoln’s energies are better so I assume you two finally took my advice, but if there’s anything I can do . . . .”

“No, I’m just tired of being pregnant. I’m always uncomfortable. It’s too hot or too cold or too lumpy or too firm or I’m too tired or too bloated. I can’t move around as much anymore and Lincoln and I are down to sex only once, maybe twice, a day.”

Maria burst out laughing unsympathetically. “Just a little longer, Mamma.”

Octavia sighed as they headed downstairs to get lunch ready. She had reached the point where she was looking forward to no longer being pregnant. The last two weeks had already seemed like forever. Three _more_ weeks seemed like yet another lifetime away. She had enjoyed sharing in all that personal time with Rory but now she wanted her body back. She knocked on her belly.

“Hurry up and get outta there, kid. I’m tired of waiting.”

* * *

Maria handed her a cup of tea as she joined her on the stoop to watch their spouses at work on the hen house. “Luke thought it might be nice for Lincoln to have another father to talk to.”

Octavia was grateful; she knew how much Lincoln liked Luke and she wanted him to have a friend other than her. Lincoln smirked at something Luke said, causing her to smile in return. She had never seen him this happy around others. He caught her staring at him and grinned before nudging Luke and whispering to him while pointing in their direction. Luke turned and blew Maria a kiss.

Maria smiled and waved back. “I have a wonderful husband.”

Octavia giggled. “I do, too.”

“He watches you, you know, when you’re not looking.”

“I know.” Octavia hid her smile behind her tea cup. “I do it back to him.”

Maria held out her tea cup to Octavia’s in a toast. “Here’s to flirting with our spouses.”

Octavia laughed as she clinked her mug against Maria’s. Maria and Luke had the type of relationship Octavia hoped to have with Lincoln after being married for fifteen years.

“Lincoln has a real skill with building things,” Maria said.

“Yeah, he does.” Octavia smiled with pride for her capable and talented _houmon_.

“There are a lot of people in this community who would benefit from that skill, you know.”

She knew that, too. She also knew Lincoln wouldn’t leave her vicinity until well after the baby was born. He was just as terrified as her about the birth but for different reasons. He was still scared something might happen to tear them apart again and he wouldn’t be there for her when she needed him most.

Maria took a sip of her tea as she side-eyed Octavia, guessing at her silence. “Luke can give him some references whenever he’s ready.”

“I think he’d like that.” It would be good for ~~her~~ them to spend more than a couple of hours apart at a time.  She would broach the topic with him after Rory was born and he ran out of projects to do around the cabin. They fell into a peaceful silence as they sipped their tea, watching their husbands.

The men soon broke for lunch and headed toward the cabin with Luke placing a kiss on Maria’s cheek. “Lincoln’s offered to give me a tattoo. What do you think?”

“If that’s what you really want." Maria laughed that loud joyous laugh of hers that Octavia loved so much. “Maybe I’ll get one, too.”

Luke’s eyes lit up at the thought of them both getting tattoos as Lincoln chuckled and pulled Octavia close to his side, kissing the top of her head.

“Do you think we’ll still be this happy after six kids?” he asked.

“We’re not having six kids, Lincoln,” she said firmly.

He laughed. “All right, seven then.”


	24. Ai Swega Yu Klin*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia is in a bad mood and Lincoln is in a good mood.  
> NSFW

* * *

The thunder cracked loudly, reverberating through her jail cell. Pensmore had captured them; that was the latest twist to her nightmares. She was always trapped in a cell identical to the one they put her in when she was in solitary for a year on the Ark. Sometimes, the walls and ceiling would shrink until it was that cubbyhole under the floorboard where she used to hide from the guards. Lincoln was ~~dead~~ gone and she was going into labor. She was _not_ having their baby in a prison. She woke up to him watching her sleep.

“Nightmare?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I woke myself up.”

“It didn’t seem that bad.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You were mumbling and your nose got all crinkly but that was about it.”

She cradled his cheek, the last of the nightmare melting away under his warm gaze. Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating his gorgeous face, followed by a loud boom that shook the cabin and brought back memories of when Mount Weather bombed _Tondisi_. Thunderstorms made them both anxious.

“Can we just stay indoors all day and snuggle?” She was crampy and bloated this morning and didn’t have the energy to muster doing anything productive today.

He nodded and tugged her closer.

“Why must you be so agreeable and nice all the time?” She asked bitterly.

“Because I love you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, unperturbed as usual by her sudden change in mood.

“Well, I love you and I’m not very nice to you.”

He laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. It was cut short when she glared harshly at him.

“You really don’t know?” he asked. “Every time I tear a hole in something, the next time I wear it, you’ve already fixed it. Every afternoon, you seek me out and bring me fresh water or a snack. When I’m in a bad mood, you know when to give me my space or how to make me smile. You rub my shoulders at dinner. You sing to me and dance with me and laugh with me and love with me.”

“But not like you do.” She tried to keep the tears out of her voice.

“Octavia, this isn’t a competition.” He repeated her own words back to her. “We’re different people who love in different ways.” He leaned over to brush a tendril of hair away from her face before kissing her forehead.

“Are you doing okay?” She hadn’t asked him that in a while and felt neglectful in light of how attentive he was being.

“Yeah,” he replied with a smile. “We’re making a _houm_ here and are a part of something that I only ever dreamed existed.”

“How come you’re doing so much better than me? Are you just better at hiding it?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I’ve been through similar before and I know what to expect. I’ve got _ai sonraun en ai fyucha_ this time so it makes things easier in comparison.”

“And I have nothing to compare it to,” she said mournfully, not that she would have ever wanted to go through what he had been through in his lifetime.

No, what truly saddened her was how woefully inexperienced she was when it came to life in general. Only a few months ago, she had worried over being pregnant, terrified she might lose the baby and possibly her life either in pregnancy or childbirth. That fear was no longer there. It was now about what happens next, about how to change diapers and breastfeed and hold the baby. She didn’t even know how to hold a baby!

The first baby she ever held was at Arkadia when someone had unthinkingly shoved one in her arms. She held it for all of two seconds before passing it off to Lincoln, who actually knew what to do with it. When the mom saw him holding her baby, she had freaked out and screamed that the Grounders were trying to steal her baby. Octavia and Lincoln avoided _all_ the _Skaikru_ kids after that.

She had held Maria’s youngest, Jack, a few times but there was always so much commotion going on around them that she was able to quickly give him to someone else without anyone noticing. Except maybe Lincoln; he always saw everything. Her heart broke at the thought that Lincoln knew she didn’t have the first clue of how to do anything from holding babies to changing diapers.

“You already know, don’t you?” Her voice quivered with misery.

“Know what?” he asked in drowsy confusion, already on his way back to sleep.

“That I’m going to be a terrible mother.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing.” She sniffled with self-pity.

“You haven’t known what you were doing since the moment you stepped on Earth, Octavia. Yet you’ve figured it out.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’ll figure this out just like you figure everything else out.”

He was right. She knew nothing about the world, nothing about babies or children, nothing about cooking or surviving. He had taught her everything she learned and all she had done for him in return was to take away everything he had ever known and loved. She was unable to hold back the tears any longer and began to cry over how unfair life had been to Lincoln.

“You’ve lost everything because of me and I’m so helpless and I don’t know anything useful and you’re constantly having to teach me how to do _everything_ from feeding and protecting myself to controlling my emotions.” She started sobbing harder. “And I can’t even control my emotions very well.” She wailed despondently.

“Octavia, slow down. You’re just listing all the reasons I love you.” He gripped her chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing her to look at him. “Every day, I get the chance to see the world brand new again through your eyes. You taught me how to hope again, how to forgive, how to love unconditionally, how to dream. You are the reason I’m still alive and not just because you saved my life. Every time I look at you, I’m reminded that there are still things worth living for.” His other hand slid over her belly, caressing it gently. “People worth living for.”

She gave a short laugh through her tears, her emotions quickly switching from despair to overwhelming love for him. “I really don’t deserve you.”

“Then I guess it makes us even,” he replied pragmatically, not the least bit contrite about them both being undeserving of each other. “Either way, I get to spend the rest of my life with you and I’m okay with that.”

* * *

He eventually got up to bring her breakfast in bed. The storm-charged air crackled; tingling, palpable, almost alive, a neutral presence filling the empty space with energy. Polly had sent out a public broadcast across their radio earlier that the rain and wind were expected to continue for at least another three days. Apollo was already prowling restlessly about cabin, wanting to go outside where he spent most of his time while Artemis, who still refused to step foot outside, didn’t notice there was anything different from any other day.

Lincoln returned from dropping their dirty breakfast dishes off in the kitchen and held out his hands to her. “Come on. Time to get up. I’ve got a bath started for you if you want.”

She groaned as he grabbed her by the wrists and heaved her out of bed and onto her feet. He led her into the kitchen where he had dragged out the old hip bath he found in the barn a few weeks back. Walking all the way to Julia’s once a week for a proper bath had not been a priority in this last month of her pregnancy.

He had already prefilled the bottom of the tub and there was a pot of water hanging over the fire for him to ladle into the bucket of fresh, cold water next to the tub. He helped her climb into the tub before scooping hot water and mixing it into the cold to get the right temperature for her.

She found herself smiling in spite of her depressive mood. He seemed more in love with her than normal, if that were possible. “What’s got you so doting today?”

“Can’t I enjoy loving my _houmon_ without it being questioned?” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you so disagreeable today?”

She grunted. “I don’t know. I think it’s the storm.”

He tilted his head in understanding, giving her a sympathetic smile. “The first time I met you, there was a storm this bad.”

“Don’t remind me.” He had been tortured by her brother because of her.

“You saved my life before you even knew me,” he said. “No one has ever done that for me before or since.”

“Is that how you remember it?”

“It’s when I first started falling in love with you. Now, close your eyes.” He began lathering up her head and massaging her scalp.

The tension slowly started melting away under his fingertips as she dredged up the memories of those first few days of their relationship, trying to focus on the good parts like Lincoln did. There was such urgency and fear in those early days that they had gone from kissing each other to practically married with no real time to properly court and fall in love. Instead, their love was tested from the start, forcing them to realize early on the great lengths and sacrifices they were willing to go to for each other. They might have skipped a few steps in the beginning but they were now given a chance to build a foundation for that love and a permanent home for their future together.

 “I love you, Lincoln.”

“I love you, too. Hold your breath.”

* * *

Lincoln spent the rest of the morning working on the mural in the living room. He was painting her the outside world on the inside so even when they were stuck indoors on rainy days like today, she didn’t have to feel like she was trapped.

She had helped him paint some of it, shyly testing out art skills she’d never used. She painted a tree; a tree from the forests she used to dream of hidden away in her cubbyhole and later in solitary on the Ark, a tree that she first saw when she became the first Arker to set foot on Earth in 97 years. A tree to symbolize the _Trikru_ who still resided in their hearts if no longer on this planet.

Her tree was crooked and the color didn’t look right but the more she tried to fix it, the bigger it grew and the worse it seemed to get. She wasn’t very good at painting but Lincoln didn’t mind, grinning like a lovesick _branwada_ with tears in his eyes as he told her it was his favorite painting ever: her very first work of art.

He didn’t paint over her poor, child-like drawing of browns and greens swirling in a tree-like pattern. He filled in the background around it instead, elevating it and transforming it into a powerful, gnarled symbol of natural ancient wisdom.

“That is how I see you,” he said when she saw what he’d done and started to cry.

They had made love after that, his mouth worshipping her like the goddess he saw her as, the mural forgotten except for the streaks of color painted over their naked skin wherever their hands touched.

“ _Ai swega yu kiln, Okteivia_ ,” he said once he had his breath back. “ _Ai na huk yu op kom deimeika, natshana, en skaifaya_.” He teasingly reminded her that he promised her he would give her the sun, the moon, and the stars.

She laughed. “You definitely showed me the stars just now, _ai niron_.”

“You are my _skaifaya_.” He kissed her again, his tongue teasing at her lips, tempting her into another round.

She kissed him back, her tongue delving hungrily into his mouth as the storm’s energy fed into their desires. His hand cupped her breast, heavier and fuller than ever, his calloused palm scraping across her taut nipple. He was already hard again, his arousal pressing into her belly.

She pulled her mouth away from his, her body already aching to feel him inside her again. She rolled over onto her knees into her favorite position lately, wiggling her butt at him. He hauled her buttocks back against him, his hardened member lying flush against her swollen nether lips. His hand moved between their bodies, his finger swiping long against her slit, opening her up to his cock. His hips rolled forward as he embedded himself inside her, returning once again into her warm embrace. He slowly pulled out before thrusting forward again, building up into a faster rhythm each time he entered her.

His arms tightened around her, one hand cupping her breast, the other cupping her belly as he propelled them toward the heavens. Her muscles gripped around him tight, her arms trembling to support her as she whined and sobbed for sweet release.

His teeth scraped along her shoulder as he moved his hand from her belly to the top of her thighs, his fingertip stroking that little pearl hidden there until she cried out with ecstasy. She rocked her hips back, her walls squeezing and rippling and sucking at his member as she disintegrated into stardust

“Aah!” He tensed, his hips locked into place behind her, his fingers digging deep into her skin and he followed after her, moaning as he emptied himself inside her.

He pulled out of her, collapsing next to her as he caught his breath once more. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded and he helped her stand. A trickle of their fluids seeped out down the inside of her thigh . . . except it wasn’t a trickle and almost felt like she was peeing from her vagina. She stepped off the furs so they wouldn’t have much to clean up as she detachedly realized her water just broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless there is risk of miscarriage or premature labor, lovemaking during pregnancy is safe and healthy if the woman is able and has the desire. Women are also less likely to experience perineal tears during labor and they are less likely to quarrel with their spouses if they keep up an active sex life during pregnancy.
> 
> It is also fairly common for sexual intercourse to induce labor due to both nipple stimulation and human semen, which contains prostaglandins, a substance that helps ripen the cervix for labor.


	25. Let Me Help You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia goes into labor and the midwives arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been doing a lot of research and one thing I really liked is the variations used for terminology (i.e. contractions, rushes, surges) so that’s what I’ll also be using here.

* * *

Her first contraction hit a few minutes after her water broke. It felt more intense than the practice ones she had been experiencing and made her pause. Lincoln was by her side in an instant, trying to get her to sit down.

“I’m all right.” She waved him away. “It’ll be a long while yet, maybe days.” She tried to calm her own excitement.

He triggered an alert on the radio for Polly to call them anyway, just in case the storm caused problems. They were prepared. Lincoln was prepared, at least. He knew enough about birthing animals and had seen enough human babies born. His best friend had been a healer, one of his aunts a midwife. If it came down to it, they would revert to their original plan and he would deliver their baby.

Polly’s voice squawked out from the radio on the mantel a half hour later. Octavia still hadn’t had another contraction so there wasn’t any urgency but Polly promised they would be there in a few hours, depending on the condition of the roads and the weather.

Lincoln was serving them up lunch when the next contraction left her doubled over and clutching at her belly. He set down the water pitcher, ready to help out if she needed him. No, not yet.

Another surge came after they finished lunch. Another one hit while she was directing Lincoln on where to move his worktable out of the way to set up a sleeping space for Maria, Polly, and Rosie because with this weather, they might be staying for days. Another one while she worked on Rory’s baby blanket, the one she had wanted to finish before Rory was born. The minutes dragged into hours yet the surges remained intermittent and far apart.

She sighed, putting aside the baby blanket. “I can’t concentrate, Lincoln.”

He looked up from sketching in his journal. “What do you want to do instead?”

“I want to have this baby already!” There was a primal force within her straining to be released.

He smirked. “That’s what I thought you were doing.”

She scowled at his lack of sympathy and stood up. “I have to pee again.” She tried to stick to a two-hour pee schedule, as Maria had advised.

When she returned, he was back to drawing in his notebook, his head bent over the open page, the pencil scratching away. The lamp next to him set his profile aglow, leaving her breathless. He glanced at her, catching her watching him and the corners of his mouth creased up into that seductive smile of his.

“Will you massage my back for me?” She was still on edge, which would only prolong things if she didn’t relax.

He climbed off the chair and onto the floor, opening his legs and placing a cushion there for her to sit. He helped her get into position and began pressing the heel of his palm along her lower back. She moaned, the tension seeping out under his skillful touch.

His hands roamed from her back and along her sides and over her belly, starting at the top where it grew the hardest during surges. She moved one of his hands up over her breast, clasping it tightly in place. Her boobs were aching worse than they ever did when she was on her period. He squeezed and massaged her breast, pinching her nipple occasionally and releasing some of the pressure.

“This is helping,” she said encouragingly.

He kissed her cheek. “You’re the boss, Angel. You know what you’re doing and what you need.”

She raised an eyebrow at him referring to her as the “boss.”

“I talked to Luke.” He shrugged. “This is the first time for me, too, you know.”

She burst out laughing and started to kiss him just as another surge hit. “Oooo.” She kissed him harder, breathing long and slow puffs against his lips. His hands moved over her stomach, kneading from the top down.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered to her as her belly started to loosen, “shining with energy and light.”

She smiled back at him. “We’re really doing this. It’s really happening.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her again, a long and lingering kiss as he poured his love into her. “ _Ai hod yu in, Nomon._ ”

* * *

The midwives arrived in one of the town’s two Rovers that had been converted into a mobile clinic and ambulance. Lincoln hurried out to greet them and help bring their luggage in. Maria entered followed quickly by Polly, both stomping the mud off their boots as Octavia took their raincoats and hung them on hooks Lincoln had installed a month earlier.

“It’s really coming down out there,” Maria said as Polly bent over to help her remove her shoes.

Rosie and Lincoln entered with their supplies and extra clothing. Lincoln was completely drenched from going outside without a jacket on and went upstairs to change. Octavia led everyone else into the kitchen where she had food waiting. She needed to be useful. She needed to be strong. Her mother had worked a full day before giving birth to her.

“How are you doing?” Polly asked her.

“I was a little emotional this morning.” She confessed. “Lincoln’s been good at cheering me up.”

“How are the rushes coming along?” Maria asked.

“They’re still intermittent but getting closer together.” Octavia waved them to sit while she got out some mugs for tea.

“When was the last one you had?” Maria asked as she took a seat at the table.

“About five minutes before you showed up,” she replied as she brought the mugs and teapot over to the table.

She began pouring the tea into the cups as the tightness in her belly returned, building and rippling. She set the teapot down and held her hand up, signaling for them to give her a moment as she bent over from the surge of power clamoring to get out. She grunted, breathing heavily as the waves washed over her, leaving her tingling in their wake.

“ _Nou mou, Okteivia_.” Lincoln had returned at some point and was at her side, cupping her face. “ _Branwada seintaim en taim set yu daun._ ” He repeated an old _Trikru_ saying Indra had shouted often enough at her when she pushed herself too far, that even a fool knows when to surrender. “Sit down, walk around, lie down, relax, I don’t care. But it’s time to focus on you and Rory, okay?”

“Fine.” She sneered stubbornly but all that did was cause him to laugh and then kiss her. He knew she hated admitting when she was wrong.

* * *

After they ate, Maria checked up on her, having been patient enough to hold off through dinner. Octavia didn’t want to know if she had made any progress. She was scared that things weren’t going to go well; things had never gone well for her so there was no reason they should this time.

“Two centimeters. Nicely done, Octavia.” Maria smiled proudly. “And your rushes aren’t even that frequent yet.”

Lincoln lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it and smiling cheerfully at her.

“I know you’re still nervous but when that happens,” Maria continued on, “just stop a moment and feel the love. Feel the energy and the power. Everything is flowing for this birth.”

Rosie passed behind Maria, carrying a squirming Apollo in her arms. She had transformed from a giggling twelve-year-old into a capable assistant and had been running to-and-fro at Maria’s and Polly’s directions, retrieving whatever they needed before they asked and making Octavia glad she was here to take care of the little things. Now, she was wrangling the kittens and keeping them entertained so they wouldn’t distract Octavia or Lincoln for attention. She smiled and mouthed a silent _thank you_ as Rosie escorted Apollo out from the loft.

“Octavia, are you even paying attention to what we’ve been saying?” Maria asked in feigned exasperation.

“No, but Lincoln is.”

Maria rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning back to Lincoln. “Try to conserve energy. Try to get her to sleep if you can. If not, just kiss and cuddle.” An oft-repeated phrase of Maria’s was that just as it took loving to put the baby in, it took loving to get the baby to come out. “One of us will come check on you two every couple of hours.”

Lincoln nodded and they were left alone in the loft, the fire in the fireplace below setting everything in soft golden shadows. Lightning flashed, starkly illuminating his towering frame as he stood next to the bed, waiting for Octavia’s direction.

“Well, you heard her.” She smiled reassuringly at him as she patted the space next to her. “Let’s get working on that kissing and cuddling business.”

* * *

They had eventually fallen asleep at some point. It was that half-sleep Octavia had learned how to do so well since landing on Earth, but this time it was different. She was lulled by Lincoln’s soft snoring, such a rare sound when the only times she usually saw him asleep were when he was trapped in his nightmares. Rory was asleep, too, probably resting up for later. Instead of fear keeping her on edge, it was a powerful energy keeping her aware.

Her breath sucked in on a hiss as another surge started up. She rolled over, facing away from Lincoln and curling inward as she tried not to wake him. He woke up anyway and his hands found their way to her rigid belly, splaying across it as he tugged her back against his chest, his lips finding her neck.

“I’m here for you,” he whispered as he nibbled and nipped at her ear, knowing how much she liked that little touch of roughness. “Whatever you need.”

She moved one of his hands up to her breast and he squeezed. The waves washed over her, flowing and undulating from her chest down to her thighs, his hand on her belly following behind the ripples. She let out a low, earthy moan, breathing through the intensity as she relaxed into his embrace. This was good; this was working.

They soon figured out a rhythm to dealing with her rushes. They were still fairly far apart but they were growing in strength and duration. She was now only comfortable lying on her side so he would wrap his arms around her, his fingers digging away at the knots in the small of her back. Other times, she would move his hands wherever she needed them the most, whether it was her breast or the tops of her thighs or her belly, until eventually he was able to anticipate her needs before she did.

In between rushes, they would nap or make out and cuddle, Lincoln whispering endearments to her in _Trigedasleng_. Sometimes he would list all the reasons he loved her, sometimes he would proudly list all her accomplishments. Right now, he was whispering to her about how he had taught her how to fish and trap and soon they would both be teaching Rory.

She stroked her finger along his cheek. “I love you so much, Lincoln.” It was important he heard that right now, the storm’s energy feeding into their words of love and giving them their own special power. It was heady and intoxicating.

“I love you, too.”

She let out a shaky laugh as another surge started up, much sooner than any of the others. “Kiss me, Lincoln, and keep telling me how much you love me.” Kissing helped her keep her mouth open and regulate her breathing. Kissing Lincoln also felt really _really_ good when she was trying to focus on the power of the rushes instead of the pain.

“ _Ai hod yu in, ai sonraun_ ,” he whispered between kisses. “You’re so incredible.”

“Aah!” She held onto him, her nails digging into his skin, breathing hard and heavy against his mouth.

“You’re doing such a great job, Angel.” He continued rubbing her belly as the surge began to ebb. “You okay?”

She had never been better. “Yeah.” She grinned as she went back to kissing him. She was finally going to meet Rory today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best book by far is Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin and most everything I've researched references back to it. She's a huge proponent of the "love" method and [their statistics](http://www.thefarmmidwives.org/preliminary_statistics.html) are some of the best (if not THE best) in the world.


	26. You're Not Gonna Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia’s labor progresses.
> 
> I figured everyone would prefer a shorter chapter now rather than waiting for a longer chapter later.

* * *

The contractions were coming one after another now, closer together and longer in length as the storm raged on outside. All morning long, Octavia found it more and more difficult to get comfortable. Maria and Polly shared birthing stories with her, sharing their energy and love, sharing their experiences and making her laugh. Sometimes, laughing helped. She also tried pacing, sitting, standing, even stretching and squatting. Sometimes nothing helped and she would cling to Lincoln, her mouth open over his as she tried not to scream or cry.

After lunch, Maria did another check on her as she sat between Lincoln’s legs, leaning against him for support. She was only dilated up to four centimeters, the goal being ten. She tried not to be disappointed but she still felt like a failure.

“It’s time you started opening up more,” Maria said, pulling off her gloves. “We need to encourage these rushes and bring them on.”

“That’s okay. I’m good.” She was barely able to handle them now.

“Do you want to have this baby, Octavia?” Maria asked her with a raised eyebrow. “Because you can keep fighting it all you want but that’s just going to prolong things.”

Her body began trembling in Lincoln’s arms as wave after wave washed over her, another surge starting up. She rolled over, puking into a bucket Polly held out to her. The lunchtime meal had initially fortified her but now it gave her something solid to throw up. Either way, she was appreciative. She rolled back into Lincoln’s lap as he passed her a flask of water to rinse her mouth out.

“I want to have this baby,” she finally answered Maria through gritted teeth as the surge abated. It had been twenty-six hours since her water broke. Her mother was only in labor for sixteen hours before giving birth, eight of which had been while she was at work.

She must have spoken out loud because Lincoln replied, “You were also her second baby.” His touch was electric as his fingers traveled up and down her arms, mirroring the pattern of her tattoo. “You’re not her and these are different circumstances so stop comparing yourself to her.” He kissed her cheek. “Besides, you’ve told me you don’t want to be like her anyway.”

She snorted, sending a spasm through her and starting up another surge. His hands returned to her belly, knowing what she needed, as if he were feeling what she was feeling.

“Smile, Octavia.” Polly reminded her. “Keep your mouth open to keep your bottom open.”

She wanted to punch Polly right now. Maybe Maria, too, and possibly even Lincoln. He took her hands in his, unfurling her clenched fists as he laced their fingers together. In return, she crushed his hands in hers, holding onto him as she rode out the waves.

“You’re doing so well.” He nuzzled her neck, placing a kiss on her shoulder. “You’re so gorgeous, so full of strength.”

She turned her head toward him, capturing his lips and opening her mouth as the waves began to recede. She could do this.

* * *

She was going to die. The more Lincoln rubbed her belly, the more the rushes came. Her hands gripped his, wanting to tell him to stop but this is what she needed to get the baby out. She whimpered as her face scrunched up, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes.

She started scrambling, trying to get out of his lap, his arms now trapping her instead of comforting her. “I need to leave.”

“Where are you going?” He asked with complete seriousness.

“I’m . . . I’m scared.” She trembled from her throat to her thighs as wave after wave crashed upon her, tumbling her and drowning her. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“I’ve had six kids and thought the same thing with every damn one of them.” Maria spoke up from between Octavia’s legs. “You’re doing just fine and everything is where it’s supposed to be.”

She gagged as the rush continued to crescendo and Polly held out the puke bucket to her. She barely had time to rinse her mouth out before another surge built on top of the last one, splitting her apart, her bones shattering and her body breaking.

“You got this, Octavia,” Polly said, grinning widely. “You know what this means?”

“Uh-huh.” She gave an unsteady nod. It meant she was in transition and becoming fully dilated. It still didn’t mean she wasn’t dying. “I’m gonna die.” She started blubbering. She didn’t want to die, not anymore. She had too much to live for now.

“You’re not gonna die.” Lincoln wiped her face off with a wet rag.

“Abby was right. It’s gonna kill me.” She bawled, the double-surge dragging her under and suffocating her.

He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “ _Yu laik gona_.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Fear makes you brave or makes you a coward. Tears can make you weak or make you strong.”

“I tried. I’m not strong enough.” It was too much for her to handle.

“You _are_ strong enough. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” His hands massaged her belly as it rippled and spasmed. He kissed her, his lips soft against hers.

“I’m so sorry, Lincoln.” She gulped and gasped. “I can’t . . . .”

“Breathe, Octavia.” He kissed her again, forcing her mouth open, forcing her to breathe with him. Long, slow breaths, like the breathing exercises he had taught her in training.

 _I am not afraid._ She focused on what was happening instead of what she was feeling. There was a tight band around her chest, squeezing the baby further down, her bottom opening up as she kept her mouth open against Lincoln’s. She could do this. Her mom did this with only the help of a six-year-old Bellamy. Octavia had the help of two midwives, twelve-year-old Rosie, and Lincoln.

“Aaaah!” She cried out, tearing her mouth away from his as the rushes kept going, ripping her limb from limb.

“ _Ste yuj, ai niron._ ” His hands moved up to her chest, cupping her breasts and tugging on her nipples, sending shock waves to counteract the tidal force trying to drown her.

 _I am not afraid_. She clung to Lincoln’s thighs, her fingers digging deep into the fabric of his pants as yet another rush started up before the last one had fully dissipated. She moaned as he trailed kisses along her jawline back to her mouth, pausing there.

“Open your mouth for me again, _Okteivia_.” He said her name in the way that sent shivers through her body, making her forget for a second that she was drowning. She opened her mouth to his as he devoured her agony, yanking her out from the turbulence trying to consume her.

“I am not afraid.” Her voice trembled as she spoke against his lips.

“That’s right, Angel. You have nothing to be afraid of because you’re always so brave.” He continued squeezing and fondling her breasts, making the surge come on stronger.

“I am not afraid.” This time she said it with more conviction. It wasn’t painful. She had felt pain; her nightmares were filled with unbearable loss and heartache; the pain of her mother dying, the pain of her bones breaking, the pain of her soul collapsing every time she thought she had lost Lincoln. This wasn’t any of that. No, this was joy. This was happiness. She was bringing forth life and she was ecstatic.

She rocked forward onto her knees, squatting on her heels as she lifted her face to the heavens and roared. This was POWER!


	27. Before You Even Knew Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia has their baby!

* * *

She was growing stronger from the storm’s energy, converting it into power for her to pull on. She was a mighty goddess emanating vitality; she was an unstoppable force of nature, a hurricane, a tsunami, an earthquake, a wildfire. There was no fear, only exhilaration and euphoria. There was no pain, only a potent energy and life force clamoring for freedom.

“Let us know when you’re ready to push again,” Maria said as she arranged a tarp underneath Octavia. Both she and Polly had taken up residence between Octavia’s legs with Rosie hovering behind them, passing them whatever they needed. Octavia was naked, having divested of her clothes long ago, with Lincoln supporting her from behind, his bare chest against her back.

“It’s looking good, Octavia.” Polly cheered her on, kneading her cramping leg muscles between the surges.

“Aaaaaa!” She let out a soft cry as another rush urged her to push once more. She moaned long and low, sweating as her body opened up. These waves were different from before, tidal waves of energy as Rory’s presence grew stronger and stronger. Rory wanted to be born. She looked to Maria, letting her know she was ready, and Maria nodded.

“Tell Lincoln how much you love him and give us another push,” Maria said, her hands massaging Octavia’s nether lips and taint, rubbing oil in to help lubricate the skin.

“You’re so brave, Octavia,” Lincoln whispered in her ear. “You got this.”

He held onto her thighs from behind, supporting her open knees as she pushed, as if he were pushing with her, helping her. He had become an extension of her, sharing the workload, sharing the power, a bond closer than they had ever experienced before. Every inhale she took, he exhaled as they breathed as one. She was Lincoln and he was her.

“ _Ai hod yu in_ , Lincoln. I love you. _Te amo_.” She babbled and shouted _I love yous_ in every language she knew, the distraction keeping her mouth open as her body stretched and widened. “ _Mahal kita_. _Je t'aime_.”

The power grew stronger, consuming her, transforming her, transcending her. She was at one with the cosmos, the infinite universe exposed, sparkling and shimmering out from her pulsating belly in a kaleidoscope of silver and gold stardust. The surge started peaking, the room awash in colors; their energies tangible and vibrant and eternal, their auras swirling and mingling as Rory’s grew brighter and louder.

Rosie passed Polly a mirror and Polly held it up to them, a flash of lightning illuminating and reflecting Octavia’s blossoming body, letting Octavia witness the grandeur of what she was doing as their baby’s head crowned and they saw Rory for the first time.

Lincoln kissed her cheek. “I love you so much,” he whispered with tears in his voice.

It became a symphony of movement with Maria conducting, letting Octavia know when to push and when to wait so she wouldn’t tear. So much of that last part and the part after was a hazy fog in her memories, background noise to highlight the most awe-inspiring and life-changing moment. The moment time stood still for eternity when their _fyucha_ finally slipped out of her and Maria placed Rory on her thigh, the three of them meeting in person after all these months of getting to know each other.

“That’s Rory, Lincoln! That’s her!” Octavia already recognized her; Rory looked just like Rory. Tears streamed down her face as she gazed upon this sublime and magnificent being she had brought forth into the world. She and Lincoln were the only two people in the entire existence of the universe who could have created Rory.

As Polly suctioned the fluids from Rory’s nose and mouth, Octavia stretched her fingers out to touch her, brushing back the dark locks plastered to the top of her head. Space and time stopped; the universe pausing, holding its own breath as it waited for Rory to take her first breath. Her lips suckled at the empty air, her chest inflating as her teeny, little mouth yawned wide and she let out a bellow so loud it startled a laugh of joy from Lincoln.

“Just like her _nomon_ ,” he said affectionately as he kissed the top of Octavia’s head. “ _Ai gadas laik gonas_.” His voice hitched with emotion as he called his girls warriors, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Rory continued screaming her discontent at being disturbed from her slumber, the flush of life spreading out from her heart, her skin growing redder and darker as more and more air filled her lungs. The heavens roared back with thunderous applause.

“The gods approve.” Maria chuckled as she cut the umbilical cord, severing that last physical connection between mother and daughter.

Polly moved Rory up from Octavia’s thigh to her distended belly and replaced the now-damp blanket over her with a dry one. Rory’s eyes were scrunched closed, her fists reflexively jerking as she continued to cry a heart-wrenching, mewling sound that made Octavia’s breasts ache.

“Hey, Baby.” Octavia slipped her finger under one of Rory’s fists, uncurling her little fingers. She was barely able to see her beautiful daughter through her tears of love. “It’s your _nomon_ and _nontu_.”

“ _Oso seingeda,_ ” Lincoln said as he delicately touched the back of Rory’s hand, an electric spark of awareness connecting the three of them into a new level of cosmic unity. She and Lincoln were now related through Rory.

Polly motioned for Lincoln as she moved to the other side of the room where she had set up an area to check on Rory. Lincoln slid out from behind Octavia, rearranging the pillows behind her so she remained propped up. He reached for Rory, his hand caressing down her back as he picked her up off Octavia’s belly and brought her close to his chest, keeping her warm with his body heat.

Tears continued streaming down his smiling face as he gazed lovingly at his daughter, softly whispering endearments to her in _Trigedasleng_. Octavia’s eyes followed after them as they moved only feet away but still too far. She wanted Rory back, but she had to be okay with her _nontu_ holding her, cradling her close against his naked chest as Polly listened to her lungs and checked her heartbeat.

Rosie brushed back Octavia’s hair and cleaned off her face while Maria continued her work down below. Octavia’s belly was still solid and cramping, the contractions now so minor that she barely noticed them.

“That’s the afterbirth coming,” Maria explained, getting a bowl ready to collect it. She would later turn it into a pill for Octavia to ingest daily over the next few weeks.

As Octavia delivered the afterbirth, her eyes remained transfixed on that little tuft of black curls, impatiently waiting for them to bring her baby back. Lincoln finished gently wiping down Rory and fastened a diaper into place before tucking a clean blanket loosely around her. He walked back to Octavia’s side and passed Rory into her arms and she was finally holding her baby. She was holding Rory! It was as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if her arms had been missing something her entire life and it was Rory who was the final piece.

“She’s perfect,” Lincoln said proudly as he climbed onto the bed next to her, his arm wrapping around her and pulling her into his side.

She ran a finger along Rory’s arm, her silky, golden skin a tantalizing blend of Octavia’s swarthy complexion and Lincoln’s tawny brown hue. Rory's eyes slowly creaked open and it was as though Octavia had been staring into them all day.

“ _Ai hod yu in_ , Rory.” Octavia’s arms shook as she brought her daughter close, the tears pouring down her cheeks as she bent her head and pressed her lips to Rory’s forehead. “I love you so, so much.”

Octavia had to fight for her right to exist her entire life and now she had brought forth a new life into the world; she was now greater than herself. She was united with that elite motherhood, with Aurora and Leanor and all the mothers who came before them and in that moment they were present, eternal, immortal. _Jus drein jus daun_. This was her purpose, her hope, her future, her moment to _exist_. She had been a daughter, a sister, a _houmon_ , and now she was a mother.


	28. You've Done Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breastfeeding and bonding time for Octavia, Lincoln, and Rory.

* * *

“I’m holding a baby, Lincoln,” she whispered smugly to him. She was still in a state of awe that this tiny baby in her arms was _hers_. This was a moment she was born to experience and she savored it.

“You’ve been holding her for nine months,” Lincoln said dryly. “Now, you’re just holding her on the outside.”

Octavia giggled in acquiescence, still high off the endorphins. Rory had been her constant companion for so long that holding her in her arms now was effortless harmony, their souls already in synch.

“Do you want to try feeding her?” Polly asked as she climbed onto the other side of the bed to sit next to Octavia.  “She might not be hungry yet but we can see.”

Octavia nodded, sniffling back her tears of joy. She tugged open the robe Rosie had draped over her, exposing her breasts.

Polly adjusted Octavia’s arm around Rory. “Hold her firm and secure. You don’t want her distracted while she’s eating.”

Octavia nodded again, half-listening as she continued staring at her precious daughter’s familiar face. Rory’s eyes were squeezed tightly closed as she mewled impatiently, uncertain of what she needed.

“Now take your nipple and rub it across her lower lip and let’s see if she figures it out.”

Octavia pinched her nipple and brought it toward Rory’s mouth as she angled her closer to her breast. Rory opened her tiny, rosebud lips and latched onto Octavia’s nipple, sucking it inside as her instinctual hunger took over.

“Oh!” There was a unique sensation unlike anything she experienced before, a tugging where Rory’s mouth suctioned around her breast that vibrated to her soul. As Rory continued suckling, the cramping in Octavia’s belly grew stronger and she shifted uncomfortably.

“Nursing helps contract the uterus,” Maria explained as she probed along Octavia’s hardened belly. She smiled at Octavia. “We want that.”

“Your nipples might be a little sore these first few days but it shouldn’t hurt. If it does . . . .” Polly pressed a finger against Rory’s cheek, releasing the suction upon Octavia’s breast. “. . . Re-position her and make sure her mouth is properly centered around the nipple.” She rubbed Rory’s chin, forcing her lips wider and more of Octavia’s breast into her mouth.

The sensation changed, deepening as if their hearts were singing together. Rory’s eyelids fluttered open, as delicate and translucent as butterfly wings, and Octavia lost herself in the swirling lavender of her eyes, like the storm clouds that heralded her birth.

“She’ll probably want to eat every hour or two. Feed her whenever she wants. That’ll help the milk come in faster.” Polly looked to Lincoln, realizing she had lost all of Octavia’s attention. “Make sure Octavia drinks whenever she’s nursing. The more water the better.”

Rosie passed Lincoln a freshly filled water flask and he passed it to Octavia. She begrudgingly peeled her eyes away from Rory long enough to gulp down the contents of the flask. She had been in labor for thirty-one hours; she should be tired and yet she felt rejuvenated, alive, bathing in the afterglow of such a profound sacrament.

“Looks like you two have it figured out for the moment,” Polly said as she climbed off the bed to finish helping Maria.

“Do you want to see her?” Lincoln asked Rosie, who stood hesitantly to the side, staring longingly at the bundle in Octavia’s arms.

Rosie nodded eagerly and Octavia patted the spot beside her that Polly had vacated. Rosie sat down next to her, leaning over as Octavia brushed back the blanket, introducing Rory to Rosie.

“She’s so beautiful!” Rosie gasped.

Octavia smiled proudly.

“When she’s older, I can babysit for you if you want.”

Lincoln laughed. “You’ve got it.”

Rosie was soon beckoned away by Polly to help clean up as Maria continued to check on Octavia every twenty minutes over the next couple of hours. Maria eventually made Octavia walk around a little bit and go pee (which was a lot easier than she had expected) before doing yet another check-up.

“Everything’s still looking great, Octavia,” Maria said as she finished the check-up. “We’ll leave you alone now but one of us will be back every hour or so till morning.”

Octavia nodded and Maria headed downstairs, leaving the little family alone to get to know one another better. She climbed under the covers and scooted closer to Lincoln, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she watched Rory slumbering peacefully in her _nontu’s_ arms, making sucking movements with her lips even while she slept.

“ _Ai hod yu in, strikon._ ” He lifted Rory closer to him, tears escaping as he kissed his daughter’s forehead.

“You love her more than me, don’t you?”

He shrugged helplessly. “Yeah.”

She giggled. “Me, too.” She thought she had fallen love with Lincoln quickly, but with Rory, she had loved her even before she met her. She finally understood her mother a bit better and the sacrifices she had made for Octavia to simply exist and she sent a silent prayer of gratitude.

“Now will you finally admit Abby was wrong?” Lincoln asked as Rory’s eyelashes fluttered in recognition of her _nontu’s_ voice.

“Shut up, Lincoln.”

He laughed as he passed Rory back to her. “She’s starting to get restless. I think she’s gonna want to eat again soon.”

She adjusted Rory in her arms and unbuttoned the top of the nightgown she had changed into. She smiled at Rory, love-struck and eternally thankful as she moved the baby blanket aside so her little body rested skin-to-skin with Octavia’s.

“Abby was wrong,” she blurted out, that final weight lifting off her shoulders. “You were right as always, _ai houmon._ ” She tilted her head toward Lincoln’s, puckering her lips for a kiss.

He cradled her cheek, smiling at her in adoration as he bent his head and gently took her lips in his; supping at them, kissing her softly, tenderly, sweetly. “ _Mochof, ai sonraun._ ”

Rory woke with a teeny cough of air as she started whimpering, her lips seeking sustenance. Octavia cooed to her as she brought Rory up to her breast and offered her nipple. Rory opened her mouth wide, latching on properly the first try.

“We did it!” Octavia exclaimed, grinning down at her daughter.

Lincoln kissed the top of Octavia’s head. “She’s a quick learner like her _nomon._ ”

Rory grunted and suckled hungrily upon her breast, watching Octavia curiously, her turbulent gray eyes not yet ready to reveal their true color. Each pull of Rory’s lips was a pull on Octavia’s heartstrings as she fell more and more in love with her daughter. It was a holy experience; sacred and spiritual, as intimate a connection as she shared with Lincoln while making love. It was healing and tranquility and wholeness.

“ _Ai hod yu in_ , Rory.”

She could stare at Rory forever, overwhelmed with radiant joy, blessed by her existence, humbled by her divinity. She basked in Rory’s powerful presence, a gift of the universe, this new and vibrant life still glistening in energy and light. Octavia worshiped her, pouring her love and adulation into Rory, until finally she fell asleep, gazing devotedly at her daughter, her _houmon’s_ arms around her, her soul refreshed, her heart fulfilled.


End file.
